The Death of a Star
by M. D. Hazel
Summary: **Warning: The following summary and fic contain SPOILERS for Transformers: Age of Extinction!** Shortly after Mikaela had received word of Ratchet's death, an injured and ill stranger with piercing blue eyes shows up at her front door.
1. Stay With Me

**Warning: The following fic contains **SPOILERS** for Transformers: Age of Extinction!**

**Author's Note:** It's been a while since I have had time to write anything fanfiction-related, but this little plot has been floating around in my head since I saw Transformers: Age of Extinction in theaters. I do not approve of Michael Bay's handling of the films, as usual, and his rather irritating penchant for killing off Autobots simply because he can gets on my damn nerves. Pissed me off a bit, because this time he killed my_ favorite_. Consider this my little bit of rebellion. ;) This is intended to be a short multi-chapter fic, which runs in the same universe as my longer (still-in-somewhat-progress) fic, Phobos. The relationship between Ratchet and Mikaela that is in the fic was founded in that one, but this one can certainly be read as a stand-alone fic.

_Italics_ = Flashback.

**Chapter 1: Stay With Me**

* * *

_"When a massive star begins to die and the core runs out of hydrogen and turns to iron, it can burn no longer. It collapses by way of its own gravity as the core overheats and becomes so tightly packed that, in less than a second, the it shrinks to a mere percentage of its normal size and the layers of the star begin to fall inward. The core heats to an unimaginable extent and explodes into a supernova, releasing all of its energy and material into the space around it. The shock wave can sometimes be so severe as to start new star formations in other interstellar clouds..."_

* * *

It was a muggy day in August that brought up the tail end of a week in which the large storms that seemed to roll endlessly over Tranquility, California finally came to a head. The skies were dark with the familiar approach of one such storm and twenty six year old Mikaela Banes lay face down on her bed, limbs sprawled haphazardly from edge to edge, listening listlessly to the distant thunder and the wind in the trees. She rolled onto her back with a sigh, rubbing tiredly at her red-rimmed eyes before sitting up to wrap her arms around her legs and bury her face in her knees, wishing her oversized T-shirt and sweatpants would just swallow her up. She wanted to be anywhere but here in her own tiny one-bedroom house, wanted to go back to any time but now when she felt more lost and alone than she ever had before. She wanted to be with someone she trusted, someone whom she could turn to for comfort – someone like Ratchet, Optimus, Bumblebee or… Her thoughts came to a screeching halt and she resisted the urge to sob bitterly into her knees. Lightning streaked across the sky, washing her bedroom in bright white light for a moment before flickering away again.

_Ratchet_…

She'd had very little contact with any of the Autobots and their human counterparts of NEST after Egypt, when she and Sam had split. But somehow the Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots had always found the time to check in on her and, even though he couldn't always divulge details of what the organization was up to, he kept her up to speed as best he could. His visits and phone calls were her lifeblood, her bright days in a sea of mundane, average ones. She always wished that he could stay, always worried about him when he left and sometimes had the uneasy feeling that something would happen and she wouldn't be there to help.

After Chicago, the phone calls became less and less and the visits from Ratchet stopped altogether. Mikaela noted, on several occasions, that their normally amiable, easy-going and sometimes playful conversations became short and to-the-point. He would always ask about how things were going with her, and seemed to listen with rapt attention, but any time she approached the subject of life on his end, he would manage to change or avoid the subject altogether.

One day, almost four years after the Chicago incident, the phone calls and transmissions just stopped coming. It had been nearly five months since she'd had contact with Ratchet or any member of NEST, and she had spent those five months slowly working herself into a frenzy with worry. She had even sucked it up and contacted Sam at one point. Their conversation was short and curt; He knew as little as she did. He'd informed her that nearly two and a half years ago, Bumblebee had mentioned something about his presence being a danger to Sam and his family and had left with no further explanation, and he had not heard from him nor any of the others since then. Sam didn't sound too put off or concerned about it, which irked Mikaela to the point where she had slammed the phone down rather than hurl nasty names in his direction.

Of course any calls made to the defense minister or that branch of the government were rebuffed and she was denied any information - in fact, after a while the U.S. government had started denying that NEST or any such program had ever even existed which made Mikaela's insides twist with dread. Something was clearly wrong, and she had no idea what.

At that point Mikaela had gotten so desperate that she had been seriously considering hopping on her motorcycle and going to look for Ratchet or Bumblebee or Optimus herself. She knew it was silly - she had nowhere to start, no trail to follow, and by now she didn't even know if they were still in California - they could have been anywhere, including off the planet (the very thought made her stomach churn.)

And then one evening she had stepped out to get the mail from the mailbox and found Ratchet's alt. mode idling in her driveway. Her hands had flown to her mouth and she had sprinted across the lawn at top speed to the Hummer, barely containing her squeal of joy. Ratchet's dark-headed holoform materialized and he caught her deftly as she threw herself into his arms, nearly crying with relief.

_"Where the hell have you been?! I was afraid something happened! I was afraid you might be..." Mikaela sighed, shaking the thought from her head and burying her face in Ratchet's bright green paramedic jacket._

_The Ratchet-holo rested his cheek against the top of her head gently, watching from behind dark-rimmed glasses in detached fascination as his deep sigh ruffled stray strands of her hair. Mikaela pulled back then, brown eyes searching his face and brow furrowing in worry when she saw how utterly beaten down and exhausted he looked, even in his holoform. The normally sharp blue eyes had dulled to a deeper blue, stubble peppered the normally clean-shaven jawline and Mikaela could almost swear that the worry lines on his human form's forehead were much more noticeable than they had previously been. The formerly proud shoulders seemed to slump a bit, as if carrying a heavy weight and she noticed for the first time that the shoulder length hair that Ratchet normally kept tied so neatly behind his neck was unbound, and it fell around his face as he returned her gaze._

_"What is it, Ratch? What's happened?"_

_"Mikaela," Ratchet sighed, sounding even more exhausted than he looked, "We need to talk. But not here." _

_At that statement the holo dissipated and the driver's side door of the green Hummer popped open. Mikaela climbed inside without hesitation, shivering with the feeling of safety and familiarity that swept over her as Ratchet's door shut and she was once again, for the first time in years, surrounded by his comforting presence. She couldn't reign in her sigh of satisfaction as she leaned against the Hummer's seats as they slowly pulled out of the driveway and made their way down the back residential streets of Tranquility._

_She didn't need to ask where they were going - she knew the moment that Ratchet had turned off her street, and that fact had only been confirmed twenty minutes later when he pulled up to the top of their old spot, an outlook on a cliff overlooking the California foothills with a single tree at its peak. She slid out of the Hummer and stepped back to give him enough room to transform, cocking her head in confusion when his holoform materialized beside her instead._

_"I cannot reveal myself at present," he'd said with a scowl at the horizon. "It isn't safe."_

_"Isn't safe? What do you mean?"_

_"I am endangering your safety even now by contacting you," Ratchet said, sounding guilty. "But I could not leave you wondering, Mikaela. I could not make peace with the thought of simply abandoning you."_

_"You didn't abandon me, Ratchet. I knew that there was a good reason for you not contacting me, I was just worried about you. I almost went out to look for you all myself a few times, not that I knew where I would even start... I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And you're here now."_

_"I cannot stay," Ratchet replied, turning to look at her with something akin to sorrow in his unnaturally blue eyes. He lowered his head to stare at the ground, his unbound hair falling over his shoulders to hide his face. "I do not know if I will be able to come back."_

_"What?" Mikaela took a quick step toward him, alarmed at his admission. "What do you mean not come back? Ratchet - I haven't heard from you in five months! What the hell is going on?"_

_Ratchet's holoform tilted his head back to look at the sky, seemingly in deep thought. Eyes still on the stars, he told her "All Autobots received a transmission from Optimus nearly five months ago, informing us that we were being hunted by a human organization which was originally created to seek and destroy the remaining Decepticons on Earth. We were told that they were hunting Autobots now, with equal voracity, and that several of our number had already been taken down by this group, who call themselves 'Cemetery Wind.' We were advised to cease all contact with humans and go into hiding. Optimus seems to think that this will eventually blow over."_

_"There are humans out there who are hunting you?" Mikaela spat, clearly disgusted. "From the government? After all you have done for us?"_

_"What we have done does not matter to them," Ratchet said matter-of-factly. "What matters to them is what we are capable of doing. They are using Chicago as an example to the Earth's people that we are unsafe - all of us, no matter whether we are Autobot or Decepticon." _

_"But that's not true!" Mikaela cried, outraged._

_"I know that, youngling. And you know it. Those who have worked closely with the Autobots know it. Unfortunately, most of Earth's people do not."_

_"What are you going to do?"_

_"I will obey the Prime's orders. I dislike running away with my... 'tail between my legs,' as you humans so aptly put it. However, I cannot argue with Optimus' logic in this matter. We are so few in number now that we would have no chance to stand against this human offensive, even if we were willing to."_

_"So you're going to go into hiding?" Mikaela asked, fear coiling around her heart at the danger that the CMO had suddenly found herself in, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Where?"_

_"I... do not know. Perhaps somewhere in the mountains, off the main roads, out of the cities... I will have to find an area that few or no humans ever venture into, which may prove difficult in this state."_

_"You're leaving California?"_

_"I am not sure, youngling. I may have no other choice." _

_"I'm going with you," Mikaela had said resolutely. _

_"No, Mikaela. I will not have you put your life in danger for no reason. My experience with this... organization has led me to believe that they are hunting us perhaps even more ruthlessly than they are the Decepticons."_

_"I don't care!"_

_Ratchet whirled around then, so quickly that his chestnut hair was whipped across his face as it contorted with fury and he all but snarled, "I do! I refuse to see you step into harm's way willingly! These humans, they value _no life_, they have no qualms with killing anything or _anyone _who steps in their way, and they have _no mercy_!"_

_Mikaela took a step back from sheer shock at the anger radiating from the normally calm and collected CMO, his breathing unsteady and his eyes somewhat manic. He lowered his face to his palm, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking several deep breaths in what seemed to be an attempt to calm himself. When he lifted his face to gaze at Mikaela again, she was dismayed to see his eyes glistening with the sorrow of unshed tears. He held his arms open to her and she stepped into them without hesitation, forgiving his harsh words instantly._

_"I am sorry. I am sorry," he repeated. arms encircling her and holding her close. Mikaela realized that he must have needed the contact as much as she did and clung to his jacket, fingers gripping the fabric in a vice._

_"I don't want you to go."_

_"I do not wish to leave, little one," He sighed, tilting his head back to gaze at the darkening night sky again. "But I must."_

_They had stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, Ratchet holding Mikaela and rocking her gently as she cried silently into his embrace, wishing with all of her heart that there was another option that wouldn't involve so much uncertainty._

_The drive back to the mechanic's house had been too short for her liking as she lay sprawled across the seats of the CMO's alt. form. For once he had not protested her lack of seatbelt, and rather simply allowed her to bury her face deeply in his upholstery and curl up against the back of his seats._

_She managed to hold in her tears as they pulled up into her driveway once more, though Ratchet had to coax her out of his cab again using his holoform. She threw herself into his arms for the third time that evening as she stepped onto the concrete of her driveway._

_"I will come to you when it is safe," he said, arms tightening around her protectively. "On this you have my word."_

_"I know you will," Mikaela sniffled, pulling away and swiping hastily at her eyes. She put on her best brave face. "I will see you again, Ratchet."_

_"Yes," he affirmed with a short nod. "You behave yourself while I am gone. To the best of your ability, that is."_

_Mikaela cocked a half-hearted smirk at this, knowing Ratchet knew her all too well. The smile faded as his holoform dissipated once more and the Hummer's engine roared to life. _

_"Take care of yourself, girl."_

_"I will. Be safe, Ratchet..."_

_Mikaela wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing warmth into the skin of her upper arms, though it was a balmy night._

_"Please," she whispered as Ratchet pulled out of the driveway and she watched his lights retreating into the distance. "Please be careful."_

_She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong._

Six more months had come and gone since then, and not a day had passed without Mikaela thinking about - _worrying_ about Ratchet. There were few nights now where she didn't have some kind of nightmare involving the genocide of her Autobot friends, and they always left her feeling breathless and restless. She rarely got a restful night's sleep.

One Friday afternoon that August, the mechanic had returned from work managing her father's machine shop just in time to hear the phone ringing as she unlocked the door. Dropping her bag on the couch and flinging her shoes off, she'd jogged across the living room in an effort to get to it before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?" she said, somewhat out of breath.

For a moment there was silence on the line and she thought she had not picked up in time, but then the person on the other end let out a sharp breath, as though they'd been holding it the whole time the phone rang.

"Mikaela."

"Yes?" She had answered, somewhat confused. The voice on the other end sounded familiar in a way she couldn't quite place. "Who is this?"

The voice cleared its throat. "This is William Lennox. Former Colonel in the U.S. army and sub-commander of NEST."

"Will?" She'd laughed in surprise. "Wow, it's good to hear your voice again. How are you?"

"Mikaela," he'd said, his voice tight in his throat and sending a wave of alarm down the brunette's spine. "I have some... news. Something I think you need to know before you find out elsewhere."

"What? What is it?" She'd asked, barely managing to control the tremor in her words.

"I have a buddy that still works with the defense ministry branch of the government," Will sighed into the receiver. "He's been slipping me info about the Autobots and the supposed war on the Decepticons whenever he can manage. Said that a special branch of the military designated "Cemetery Wind" was created with the purpose of hunting down stray Decepticons. Only, they have been hunting Autobots in secret, also."

"Yes," Mikaela breathed. "Ratchet... Ratchet told me. He was here a few months ago, and he said that they'd all gone into hiding until everything blew over, on Optimus' orders and-"

"Mikaela," Will said again, and this time the distress in the way he had said her name was beyond palpable. "Mikaela, _Ratchet's dead_."

The phone had clattered noisily to the floor, and the anguished cry that rent the air echoed off the walls of the small house in a seemingly endless lament.

Mikaela had spent the entirety of the last few days wallowing in despair in such a way that she had forgotten that the outside world even existed. She had cried until she literally no longer had a voice to cry with, she'd gotten angry, she'd thrown things, shut everyone out and finally she had sunk a deep depression and refused to leave her bed but for the occasional shower and minimal nourishment. She had not made it to the "acceptance" stage of her grief - not even close. She had moments when she thought everything would be alright, but most of the time she was convinced that nothing would be okay ever again and had just been starting to fall into one of those darker times when there was an uneven knock at her front door.

She sighed, burying her face deeper into her pillow and silently willing whoever it was to go away. No sooner had this thought passed through her mind when the knock sounded again, slightly more insistent than the first time. Mikaela lifted her head to glance out her bedroom window: The sky was dark and gray with storm clouds, and a steady rain had started up almost an hour ago and had yet to cease. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Who on Earth would be out there standing on her porch in this weather? The knock echoed through her small house again and she groaned, finally flinging her legs over the side of the bed and hauling herself to her feet to walk toward the front room. The knocking came a fourth time as she made her way into the front of the house, this time sounding more than a little desperate.

"Hang on!" Mikaela snapped, although the rasp of her raw throat made it difficult for her to put very much force behind it. She reached the front door and opened it so swiftly that it sent a wave of rain-soaked fresh air washing past her, fluttering her hair around her shoulders and making her nostrils flare as she inhaled. Her eyes settled on a figure with hunched shoulders standing in the middle of her porch, soaking wet in the rain. The person was obviously male, though he had somewhat long dark hair that looked matted and dirty and was soaked through, sticking to his face and neck as it fell in a curtain to his shoulders, concealing his face. He wore nothing but a ripped and dirty white T-shirt, which clung wetly to a tall and lanky body, and military-issue khaki pants tucked into scuffed and dirty boots. Mikaela was alarmed to see that there were numerous cuts and gashes and what were possibly bullet and shrapnel wounds peppering white skin, causing what was clearly fresh, bright red blood to run down the pale neck and arms in small rivulets and mingle with the rain and dirt.

The man staggered, bracing himself on the frame of her door and Mikaela had been just about ready to bolt for the phone and dial the police when the stranger lifted his face. Blue eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, clouded with pain and yet still intense, met hers in a silent plea and her heart dropped to her feet. For a moment she forgot to exhale. She knew those eyes! Even dulled as they were, they triggered a wild flash of memories, warm thoughts, affection and love. They spoke always of safety and friendship. They spoke of _home_.

It couldn't be. Her mentor, her teacher, her friend and father-figure was dead - had been _murdered_ less than a week ago... and yet suddenly here he was, standing (albeit barely) on her front porch.

She exhaled shakily, torn between disbelief, alarm, desperation and a dangerous, all-consuming hope, a single word escaping her raw throat:

"_Ratchet?_

* * *

**Author's Note:** A few more chapters to come! As always, reviews are _extremely _appreciated.


	2. All I Want

** Warning: Serious whumpage ahead.

**Author's Note**: I apologize for the slight monotony of this chapter. I believe this fic is moving a little bit slower than I originally intended, but I find it kind of difficult to do the big flash-bang explanations of something as large as, well, coming "back from the dead." That whole explanation IS still coming though, I'm just working out the details.

**Chapter 2: All I Want**

* * *

_"So leave yourself intact_  
_'Cause I will be coming back."_

* * *

_Mikaela exhaled shakily, torn between disbelief, alarm and desperation, a single word escaping her raw throat:_

_"Ratchet_?_"_

Scarcely able to believe that he was standing before her and with her heart thumping wildly in her ribcage, Mikaela reached out to tentatively touch the figure, fingers delicately coming in contact with and dancing across the frigid skin on the back of his hand, uncaring that blood was coating her fingertips. His eyes never left hers, his lips parted slightly to release a rattling breath from obviously stressed lungs. Silently Mikaela took one, two steps forward and engulfed him in a fierce embrace.

"Oh my god," she sobbed. "They told me you were dead! They told me you'd been killed..."

The CMO grunted in pain and staggered under the sudden embrace, but managed to grip Mikaela's shoulders gently as he lowered his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and allowing the comfort of the brunette's affection to wash over him for a moment, feeling her tears as they dripped from her chin to land on his arms and neck.

After having a moment to collect herself, Mikaela leaned back to look up into his face. "What have they done to you? You're burning up," she sniffed, swiping at her eyes, laying the back of her hand across his forehead to reconfirm. He was definitely overly warm, she thought. She could see it in his eyes as well as feel it radiating from the too-warm skin of his holo.

She leaned around him, eyes searching for his alt. mode, knowing they needed to get him hidden - perhaps in her garage, so that she could start work on him as soon as possible. She was puzzled when she found no sign of the brightly painted Hummer anywhere and turned her eyes back to his face, brow furrowed in confusion, at which he merely shook his head slowly.

"Ratchet? What...?"

Tendrils of dread and doubt began to curl their way around her heart, then, and a million questions buffeted her mind all at once - Where was his alt. mode? How far could he be from it while still keeping his holo active? How had he escaped what was clearly an attack? Was this a trap? Was this really Ratchet? ... Was she having another nightmare?

Her thoughts were broken and she was snapped back to the present when the body in her arms sagged against her slightly, staggering her under its weight. She looked back to his face, alarmed to see that his eyes were glazing over and he was struggling to keep them open with the approaching threat of unconsciousness.

She realized that they were still standing out on her tiny front porch, getting soaked in the rain. "Sorry, sorry," she whispered, turning to kick her door open with one foot and slinging one of the body's long arms over her shoulders and hauling him inside with more than a little difficulty.

She kicked the door shut rather forcefully behind her and after a split-second decision, opted to half support, half drag the stranger who may possibly be _Ratchet_ to her bedroom so that she could put him on her bed. _God, please let this be him. Please let this be real..._

She dropped him, rather more unceremoniously than she meant to, on top of her bed when they got near enough and he loosed a pained huff as his abused body made contact with the mattress.

"Sorry!" Mikaela winced, moving to help lift his legs onto the bed so that he was laying flat. She stood back to take him in fully, in the light. His face was pallid and even his lips were gray. His eyes were screwed shut tightly and he was breathing shallowly and quickly through his nose and his chest, which was covered in jagged wounds, was heaving slightly with the effort. His hair, nearly black with moisture, was dirty and tangled and clung limply to his forehead and cheeks. His skin, which Mikaela could tell was clammy even from where she was standing, was flushed with fever. Dull blue eyes with dilated pupils cracked open to look at her where she stood.

"Mikaela," he whispered, his voice rough with disuse and something she couldn't quite place. "You are as graceful as ever."

It was the first time he had spoken since he had arrived soaking wet on her doorstep, and it had been to _tease_ her? ... _It had been to tease her_! Her heart sang and her eyes misted over in happiness as somehow, with just that one expression of familiarity, she knew this was him. This was Ratchet. With this realization, she turned around to face him and leveled a reprimanding finger at him:

"And you, _Ratchet_, are as _thick-headed_ as ever!" She hissed, her voice rising unbidden in her throat and tone going up half an octave as all of her panic and sorrow made its way to the surface amidst her happiness. "You went and got yourself_ killed_?! How could you do that? You _promised_ me you would come back!"

"I have not been killed," Ratchet protested, swallowing roughly and turning his gaze to the bland, white ceiling above the bed, obviously unable to meet her eyes. "I am right here."

"_Oh yeah_? Where's your real body, then? Did you leave it hidden somewhere or-"

"It is gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

"My Cybertronian form no longer _exists_. This body must be treated as if it was a typical human body - please Mikaela," he said in that same, rough voice. For the first time, Mikaela realized that the tone she couldn't quite place earlier was grief, pure and raw. "I cannot speak about this right now."

The brunette flopped down to sit on the foot of the bed, eyes apologetic, though she was having a hard time restraining the flow of questions. Gone? His Cybertronian form was _gone_? It didn't exist anymore? Typical human body? What did that even_ mean_?

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I am just so -... They told me you were _dead_, Ratchet. Will Lennox called and told me, not five days ago, that you had been destroyed by that _stupid _fucking_ organization_ that we talked about. I've spent the last week trying to come to terms with the fact that I would _never see you again_, and you're here, you're right in front of me suddenly and I-..."

"I gave you my word that I would return to you," Ratchet said gently. "And I have, although I am less than I was."

Mikaela frowned. "Don't say that. You just need a little TLC, that's all," she said, offering him a small smile. He released a puff of air which may have been a laugh, but it sounded feeble and bitter and it worried the mechanic, who scooted closer to touch the CMO's hand again.

The cold, clammy skin pushed the fact that Ratchet obviously needed medical attention to the forefront of Mikaela's thoughts and she stood up to lean over him and assess his visible wounds more closely. He was covered in blood and dirt and God-only-knows-what-else, making it hard to separate one laceration from the next. The T-shirt that clung wetly to his chest and abdomen had obviously seen better days and Mikaela figured there was more fabric missing than not. His hands shook, and his whole body was wracked with violent shivers and chills, which he was obviously trying and failing to control. She figured that at least half of what looked like dirt was actually bruises beginning to form against too-pale skin and she leaned in closer to gently brush dirt from his forearms -

"May I ask what you are doing?"

"Taking stock of all of your wounds," Mikaela said distractedly, running her hands lightly along lacerated skin, applying gentle pressure to wounds as Ratchet had done with her so many times before. "Are you severely injured anywhere? I can't tell with all of this blood and grime caked all over you. I can't even see where half of it is coming from."

Ratchet shifted, wincing, and Mikaela noticed that sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. He closed his eyes, brows knitting together as though he was concentrating hard - possibly remembering something. "My right leg is deeply wounded," he said tightly. "I believe I have a collapsed lung as well as several broken ribs along my left side, and there was trauma to my shoulder compo-... my shoulder joint and my T-Spine. Everything else is somewhat superficial."

"Superficial. Right," Mikaela breathed in exasperation. "Very superficial. Ratchet, I don't know how to fix those things without help, I... I'm good at fixing cars. And ... and Transformers. Not people."

"Luckily I have experience in all of the above," Ratchet reminded her. "I will help you to the best of my abilities."

"Okay," Mikaela breathed, anxiety working its way up her spine. How was she going to fix a collapsed lung? And his leg... She could see the blood and torn flesh through the shredded remains of the khaki pants, and she hadn't even got a good look at his back and shoulder yet. She shuddered, attempting to steel herself. "Okay, what do I need?"

"Gather as many clean towels and blankets as you can. You will need an adequate supply of hot water, as well as something to disinfect these lacerations - possibly hydrogen peroxide if you have any on hand. Bring a couple of containers, along with a small sewing needle and thread. If you have any bandages or gauze, that would be helpful. If not, we will make do with what we have."

Mikaela nodded, making a mental list and getting up to fetch what she could from the kitchen and medicine cabinet.

"And ice," Ratchet sighed as an afterthought, shifting uncomfortably again and closing his eyes. "My core temperature is... high."

Mikaela threw a worried look over her shoulder at his admission as she stepped out of the bedroom. When she came back a few minutes later, Ratchet had propped himself in an upright position against the headboard of her bed and was working painfully on removing his boots. Mikaela dropped the bowls full of supplies on her dresser and sat on the edge of the bed, gently slapping his hands away and unlacing the boots and pulling them off to set them on the floor so that he could straighten his legs again.

"I have hot water set to boil on the stove," she said quietly, pulling a damp cloth out of a bowl and starting to wipe gently at his face. "But I don't have a lot of things that we need. I have some thread, but no sewing needles... no gauze. Have band-aids, but I doubt they'd be helpful... I do have hydrogen peroxide, though, and ice. I also brought you some ibuprofen to help with the fever, and with at least a little bit of the pain."

She pulled a large ziplock bag halfway full of ice out of the big bowl and wrapped it in a small towel, slipping a hand behind his shoulders to help him sit forward so that she could place the makeshift icepack on his neck. "You should really lie down, Ratchet..."

"No. If I do I risk my ability to stay conscious, as well as the ability to see exactly what you are doing so that I can direct you appropriately."

"Fine, have it your way. Take these," Mikaela said, handing him two ibuprofen pills and a glass of water from her nightstand, watching in mild amusement as the CMO swallowed them with an odd look on his face.

"What kind of respectable organism lacks self-repair systems?" he asked after he had swallowed the pills and water. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly, wincing at the tightness in his lungs.

"We don't lack self-repair systems. They just take a lot longer and need more help than a Transformer's do," Mikaela sighed as she continued to gently wipe dirt away from his neck and arms with a new cloth. "And we obviously aren't respectable. Look what we've _done_."

"What is this 'we?'" Ratchet rebuffed weakly, sensing exactly what the mechanic was getting at. "As far as I am aware, you are no more a part of Cemetery Wind than I am."

"I meant humans as a species," Mikaela mumbled, turning to throw the damp and now dirty cloth in the laundry basket and fishing a third out of her supplies. "Anyway, we need to get you out of these clothes. Do you think you could manage a cool bath?"

"Perhaps," Ratchet replied, using his uninjured arm to hoist himself up from leaning against the headboard. As soon as he was completely vertical, however, what little color he had left drained from his face immediately and he sagged back against the bed with a harsh breath. "Perhaps not."

Mikaela grimaced. "Ratchet, you need more help than I think either of us can manage right now."

"It isn't as though we can just stroll into a hospital, Mikaeala... I must avoid being discovered for both of our sakes."

"I know."

"What do you suggest, then?"

Mikaela climbed to her feet and paced back and forth a few times, stopping to lean against the doorframe of her bedroom and closing her eyes, running through the list of people she could trust, trying to recall if anyone had medical training or supplies... Someone who worked in the medical field, perhaps at a hospital...

Her eyes snapped open. "What about Sarah?"

"Who is Sarah?"

"Sarah Lennox. Will's wife? She's a registered nurse at the Providence Hospital on the north end of town... I think she may actually even work in the emergency room," Mikaela said, already reaching for her phone and feeling exhilarating hope for the first time since she had taken in Ratchet's injuries.

Ratchet, for his part, grunted noncommittally and closed his eyes. Mikaela watched him with trepidation as the phone rang, noting the way his chest heaved and rattled uncomfortably with each short breath, the paleness of his skin, the sweat now running down his face and neck to collect in his already-soaked shirt. Periodically he would wince or curl in upon himself slightly when his chest pained him.

Mikaela straightened slightly when the phone was answered. "Will? Will, it's Mikaela - yeah, hi... Alright. Listen, I have a serious problem and I was hoping that you - actually more like Sarah - could help me with. _Medically_ speaking," Mikaela worried her lip between her teeth. "No, no... not me. It's... it's a friend. Yes. Look, I can't really tell you on the phone, but trust me when I say it's important. It's... it's pretty bad, but I can't take them to a hospital."

Ratchet nodded, trying to push himself back up to sit straighter against the headboard, to which Mikaela pointed her finger at him, mouthing silently '_Don't even think about it_.' To her satisfaction, the CMO sunk back down, letting his head fall back to the wood with a dull _thunk_.

Mikaela shifted her weight to the opposite leg, jutting her hip out and putting a hand on it as she stared at Ratchet as if daring him to move, sighing and furrowing her brow when he made no further attempts. A few more seconds of silence came and went before;

"Hey Sarah. No, it isn't me... Uhm, as far as we can tell - a collapsed lung and some broken ribs. Shoulder and spinal trauma...? Deep laceration on one thigh," she sighed heavily, locking eyes with Ratchet momentarily and twitching. "It was a... a car accident."

Ratchet cocked a sardonic half grin. You bet your _aft_ it was a _car_ accident...

"No, I can't take them to the hospital - I know," Mikaela said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and beginning to pace again. "Please just trust me. I can't tell you over the phone, but please - yes. We're losing time. Yes. Shortness of breath, definite fever... chest pain?"

Ratchet nodded.

"Yeah, bad chest pain - Are you coughing up blood? No, they aren't. Wheezing and rattling. Okay, no that's_ great _because I really don't have anything here... Great. We're at 3725 Fairfield, off of Vinewood. Yes! Thank you _so_ much, I owe you big time."

Mikaela hung up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed again, looking relieved. When Ratchet looked at her expectantly, she said "Sarah thinks we should go to the hospital. But she'll come, and Will is coming too. They have to stop at Providence and... ahem, _borrow_ some supplies first."

Ratchet eyed her dubiously. "Borrow?"

"What did you _want _me to say? _'No, that's okay Sarah, you don't have to take any of the hospital's supplies. I have a fully stocked medical supply closet where the pantry is supposed to be_'? Because I don't."

When Ratchet answered with more silence, Mikaela grunted moodily and went to go pull the water, which was surely boiling by now, from the stove. She returned a moment later with a large, steaming bowl and another armful of small towels.

"Ratchet?" She said somewhat hesitantly, sitting down next to him again and getting back to work on his arms with the warm cloth. "Are you sure you won't tell me what you meant about your... your Cybertronian frame?"

Ratchet closed his eyes and released a long suffering sigh. "No, Mikaela. I cannot speak about it now... It is _painful_ to consider. Further, I am not sure how to explain it."

"Okay, I understand."

"In good time, youngling," the CMO coughed weakly. "After I am fully functioning again perhaps I may explain it better."

"I feel like I'm dreaming," Mikaela said thoughtfully, snatching her hand back as Ratchet hissed when she pressed too hard on a particular spot on his upper arm. "Sorry. This is just surreal to me. I don't know what to... I haven't even started the real mourning process yet. I just keep praying that this isn't something my delusional, grief-stricken brain came up with as a new form of torture, because that would _really_ suck."

She jumped slightly as a long-fingered hand reached up and brushed tears that she hadn't even known were there away from her face. She shifted her gaze to Ratchet again, taking in the rueful expression on his face, and let the tears come.

The CMO gently guided her to lean against the headboard and rest her head on his uninjured shoulder, where she buried her face in the space between his shoulder and neck and sniffed pathetically as he stroked her hair.

"You were dead," she said thickly after a moment. "You were gone. You were never coming back, and it was the _worst_ thing in the world."

"I have not left you, Mikaela. I am here," Ratchet said simply, and it was all Mikaela needed.

Nearly an hour passed, and finally Ratchet had been wiped clean. Well, as clean as he could be in the circumstances. Mikaela did not have the courage to see some of his more serious injuries, such as the one on his leg, and had decided to leave that to Sarah. She had just been tossing the last of her wet cloths in the laundry when she heard the knock on the front door.

She looked over her shoulder at Ratchet, who had inclined his head toward the front of the house, presumably listening to the movement in front of the house with keen attention.

"It's probably Sarah and Will," Mikaela reassured him.

"Be careful, all the same."

"Sir, yes sir," Mikaela responded, giving him a salute - to which he scowled deeply - and shut her bedroom door quietly behind her before tiptoeing to the front of the house. Taking Ratchet's advice anyway, she peeked out the front window and, spying Will's truck parked in the driveway, bounded to the front door and all but threw it open.

"Okay, Mikaela. What's going on?" Will said, stepping warily over the small spots of blood and rainwater on the mechanic's entryway. "Something is fishy here."

Sarah followed him in, a bag of supplies in her arms, and gave Mikaela a slightly apologetic smile as the former NEST commander began snooping around her living room.

"It's not _fishy_," Mikaela said indignantly, pulling the stuffed bear that Will had grabbed off the couch and was currently inspecting out of his hands. "It's important. But I couldn't tell you over the phone... It's important that he isn't found by people we can't trust _implicitly_."

Will frowned as he made for the bedroom. "He? Is it your father?" he asked. "Because if it is, and he's in serious trouble with the law, I don't think this is a very good idea at all."

Ratchet, hearing all of this from inside the closed bedroom, snorted softly to himself. If the colonel was worried about _legal trouble_, he may as well turn around and go home while he was ahead.

He heard Mikaela scoff. "No! Will, it's nothing like that... It's-"

Ratchet twitched as the door to the bedroom opened rather forcefully to reveal a bristly Will Lennox and an aggravated-looking Mikaela.

Will stopped in his tracks as his eyes met with the figure on the bed, and his keys fell noisily from his hand.

Ratchet glanced up nonchalantly, offering up a casual "Hello, William."

"... _What the fuck_?!"

Mikaela winced. " - Ratchet."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Explanations are coming, I promise! Thanks for making it through the chapter. I hope it was somewhat satisfying for you all, if a little boring.


	3. The Art of Dying

_** Warning: This chapter contains somewhat graphic descriptions of one or more medical procedures. If this kind of thing makes you squeamish, proceed with caution! **_

**Author's Note:** Okay, so this chapter is really two chapters combined into one. It's twice as long as the others I've posted so far, and is packed full of all kinds of things that fried my poor little brain. I'm not medically inclined, so I had to do a lot of research into the background medical stuff here, and hopefully I'm not way off. This chapter also contains the explanation of Ratchet's survival - I hope it's believable enough for y'all!

**Chapter 3****: The Art of Dying**

* * *

_Who had said and who had done_

_Who had paused and who has nothing_

_Let it be said it was not what it was_

_Was just resting on her shoulders_

_Hear our voice say_

_Don't I know enough_

* * *

_Will stopped in his tracks as his eyes met with the figure on the bed, and his keys fell noisily from his hand._

_Ratchet glanced up nonchalantly, offering up a casual "Hello, William."_

_"... What the fuck?!"_

Hearing her husband's slightly high-pitched exclamation of surprise, Sarah poked her head around his shoulder, eyes widening and jaw dropping when she saw what all the fuss was about.

"But I thought... we were told... you-..." Will tried, opening and closing his mouth slowly a few times.

"Yes, very intelligent," Ratchet sighed and winced, hoisting himself further up against the headboard again, as he had started to sink down to the mattress once more and was beginning to get uncomfortable. "Try again."

"We were told you were killed," Sarah clarified after gathering her wits, coming around the shell-shocked colonel to stand near the bed, eyes silently roaming over injury after injury on Ratchet's body as she began laying out her supplies.

"Falsehoods and slander, I assure you," Ratchet said, and Mikaela thought she may have seen a hint of mischief in the CMO's eyes, though it was gone a moment later as they glazed over with pain and fever again.

"Let me have a look at you. We'll need to get you out of those clothes," Sarah said, switching into nurse-mode and pushing Ratchet back down gently as he attempted to sit up - undoubtedly to remove his tattered shirt. "No, stay where you are. We'll cut the shirt off, there's no saving it now anyway."

Mikaela disappeared for a moment before slipping back into the room behind Will and handing Sarah a large pair of sewing scissors. She backed up against the wall to stand next to the colonel, both of them content to let Sarah take over. Mikaela felt much more comfortable now that they had the direction of someone who actually knew what they were doing.

"What's bothering you the most right this moment?" Sarah asked as she started to cut away his shirt.

"My chest. I believe that my lungs are not functioning fully and that a few of my ribs are damaged. My right leg is wounded. My left shoulder was dislocated, but has since righted itself, and there was mild trauma to my lower back..."

"Okay, as soon as we get you out of these clothes I'm going to take a look at your leg. Your shoulder will heal the rest of the way on its own now that it's back in its socket, thankfully. Your chest may be a different story." She pulled the shredded remains of Ratchet's shirt away gently to ball them up and hand them to Mikaela, who threw them in the trash near her bedside table.

"Okay," Sarah said. "Now the pants."

"Pants," Ratchet deadpanned, glaring.

Mikaela snorted, giggling. "Don't worry, Ratchet. I won't look."

"Ridiculous," Ratchet said. "You humans and your prudish concepts of decency. As a Cybertronian, I have no such restrictions. Technically speaking, we are always _nude_. Even though this may not be my Cybertronian frame, I still lack the utter shame that you humans display every time one of you ends up-"

Mikaela blushed clear up to her ears at that point and made a show of bringing her hands up to cover them before Ratchet could say anything further and turned around to face the wall. "Fine! But I'm still not looking. If not for your sake, then _mine_."

She could almost feel Ratchet's scowl, and it made her want to burst out laughing.

"Will, I need your help with these," Sarah said quietly and Will moved forward, slightly uneasy. "Just help me support his right leg and try to keep it still while I cut these off."

Mikaela, who was now resting her forehead against the frame of her door, heard some shuffling and the snip-snip of the scissors on thick fabric, some creaking of the bed followed by a tight curse from Ratchet.

"Sorry," Will responded apologetically.

"It's _fine_," Ratchet growled, and Mikaela could tell that the CMO was gritting his teeth against the pain.

More rustling, followed by one last creak of the bed before Sarah said "Okay, you're all situated for now."

Mikaela turned around to see a bare-chested Ratchet, propped neatly against the headboard where he had originally been situated, with one of her sheets wrapped neatly around his waist. Bruises blossomed across almost all the visible skin on his chest and arms, and there were several smaller lesions that were still oozing blood. She frowned in concern at the patch of red that was already starting to seep into the sheet from where it lay on the CMO's injured leg.

"I will owe you some new bedding, I'm afraid," Ratchet said, looking up at Mikaela with a wan half-smile.

"Don't be stupid," Mikaela smiled back. "I have like three more sets in the hallway closet anyway. It was about time I got rid of some of them."

Will, who stepped back out of the way again to let his wife work, rolled his eyes with a snort. Sarah cracked a small smile at the exchange as she continued to pull things from her bag - bandages, gauze, syringes, packets of sterilizer, medications, medical tape, a thermometer, a stethoscope and several things wrapped in plastic or in plastic cases.

Sarah started with his leg, folding the sheet back gently and carefully, as if to preserve his dignity ('_Apparently non-existent dignity, as far as nakedness is concerned_' Mikaela snorted to herself.)

Mikaela got her first look at the wound and was torn between relief and absolutely wanting to vomit. The separation of skin was not nearly as jagged as she had feared, instead looking to be an almost-neat slice across his mid thigh... What made her mouth go dry and her stomach roll was the depth of the wound: If she had to guess, she would say that it only stopped at his bone. By the startled and pale look on Will's face as he shifted uncomfortably next to her, he was thinking something similar.

Sarah and Ratchet, however, kept their faces schooled as they both studied the injury with cool clinical neutrality. Mikaela forced herself to reign in her own gag reflex and said "That will need stitches, won't it?"

Sarah and Ratchet nodded in tandem. "Yes, it certainly will. Thankfully it's a clean cut, and suturing it shouldn't be a problem at all," the blond replied. "It doesn't look infected."

"It is not infected," Ratchet said. "Not yet, anyhow. I've been trying to keep it as clean as circumstances would allow, even if at times they did not allow much."

"You definitely have a temperature, though," Sarah observed. "Have you taken anything for it?"

"I gave him six hundred milligrams of ibuprofen about an hour before you guys got here," Mikaela supplied.

Satisfied, Sarah gently replaced the sheet over his leg and stood up to move around to the other side of the bed. "Okay. Let me check out yours ribs and your lungs and then we'll move on to stitching you up, alright?"

Ratchet nodded in agreement as she sat on the edge of the bed. She prodded gently at his ribs, watching his face carefully for any sign of discomfort - of which Ratchet displayed very little. Mikaela, however, knew better. She noticed the slight twitch of his lips, the tensing of his muscles and uninjured shoulder every time Sarah moved her hands over his ribcage.

"Your ribs are bruised at the very least," the nurse said finally. "They may be fractured, but as far as I can tell, they are not broken. We could wrap them and that may alleviate some of the pain you're feeling, but it may also limit your breathing even more than it already is. Definitely ice them, every chance you get - don't use heat for a few days at the very least. Try laying on your left side - I know that seems a little counterintuitive, but it may help you breathe better, even if it does hurt a little more. You'll absolutely need bed rest, if that wasn't apparent already."

Ratchet nodded tightly, obviously displeased at the idea of bed rest and Mikaela resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

Sarah took up the stethoscope next, situating it on her ears and placing the end on Ratchet's chest without preamble, making him jump and hiss slightly at the sudden cold.

"Can you take a deep breath?" she asked.

"Not fully, no."

"As deep as you can without straining, then."

Ratchet obliged, coughing slightly when his chest tightened before he exhaled. Sarah frowned and put a hand behind his back, guiding him to sit forward so that she could put the stethoscope on his back and repeat the process.

Seemingly satisfied but still frowning, she removed the stethoscope from her ears before folding it and putting it back in her bag. "Definitely fluid in your chest cavity," she confirmed finally.

"What do we do for that?" Mikaela asked worriedly.

"Well, it depends on how severe it is," Sarah explained. "For minor occurrences we would put a patient on very strict bed rest for a few days or sometimes perform a thoracentesis, which is a surgical procedure to remove the fluid and air from around the lungs. More severe cases would require a hospital stay and the insertion of a chest tube, followed by several days of observation."

"How severe do you suppose it is?" Will piped up from against the wall.

"No way to really tell without radiological imaging. Our best option may be a thoracentesis," Sarah said, glancing at Ratchet for confirmation. Ratchet merely nodded, although he looked slightly apprehensive. "I brought all the necessary tools to do it. From what Mikaela described of your symptoms and from what I've heard in your chest, I'm certain that you have fluid building up around your left lung - I'm just not sure how much. Usually we would do a chest x-ray to confirm, but... that's obviously not an option. Thoracentesis may be our safest bet."

"Whoa," Mikaela said, looking worriedly between Ratchet and Sarah's passive faces. "Isn't that a serious surgery? Won't he have to be... you know, put under?"

"No," Ratchet responded. "It is actually a relatively simple procedure. It_ is_ invasive, so Sarah is going to give me a local anesthetic and make a small incision on my back to allow better access for the cannula to enter my chest cavity, but I shouldn't feel any real pain - just a mild pressure when she inserts the needle. I should feel some relief as the excess fluid is removed, but will likely develop a cough due to the settling of the lungs. Is that correct, Sarah?"

"That's exactly it, Ratchet."

Mikaela knew that Ratchet was very well aware of exactly what the procedure entailed (_'Medical genius that he is'_, she scoffed in her head) and was only asking for Sarah's confirmation because he was being considerate, but it made her smile none-the-less.

"Needle?" Will asked, swallowing audibly.

"Yes," Sarah said, pulling a long medical grade plastic wrapping out of her bag. "It looks rather alarming, but I promise it isn't as bad as it appears."

She pulled apart the ends of the plastic bag to slide out a large syringe and a hollow, wide needle nearly the length of her hand from wrist to fingertip. The needle and syringe combination was as long as her forearm and Mikaela's eyes widened as she and Will exchanged alarmed glances.

Ratchet, for his part, looked mildly apprehensive, only betraying his anxiety with a mild twitch of his lips as Sarah removed the needle from the sheath and opened a small plastic box to pull out a scalpel and lay it on the clean towel along with the empty syringe and other tools. Lastly, she pulled out a smaller needle and syringe, like the type used to give vaccinations, and a small glass bottle with a metal rim. She carefully withdrew some of the solution in the bottle, filling the syringe roughly a third of the way before setting the bottle aside and laying the syringe with the rest of her tools upon the towel.

"Okay," Sarah said, looking around the room. "We're going to have to improvise a little, here. Ratchet, I need you sitting up for this, as I need access to your back. But you need to have something supporting you from the front, because you can't be moving hardly at all once we get started... Mikaela, how about that nightstand you have over there? It's about the right height. Can we move it?"

"Sure," Mikaela replied, hopping up and quickly clearing everything off her bedside table and dragging it forward to line up with the center of her bed as Sarah and Will helped Ratchet to sit up and slide his legs over the edge of the mattress. Ratchet leaned forward with a wince to drape his uninjured arm over the table, shivering slightly as his bare skin came in contact with the chilly, hard surface. Sarah, seeing this, handed Mikaela a pillow from her bed and the mechanic quickly positioned it under Ratchet's arms to make him more comfortable. The CMO gave her a grateful look before leaning forward again to rest his forehead on his forearm, hiding his face from view.

"Okay Ratchet," Sarah said as she put on gloves from her kit and began wiping the marked area of his back with a sterile swab. She picked up the smaller syringe and came to kneel on the bed behind him. "I'm going to give you the anesthetic now, alright?"

"Alright. Is that lidocaine?" the CMO mumbled.

"Yes," Sarah responded, a look of concentration on her face as she inserted the needle into the skin of Ratchet's back and pushed the end of the syringe, emptying it slowly until there was no fluid left inside.

Mikaela noticed Ratchet tense slightly as the needle was inserted and withdrawn and she dropped down to a crouch in front of him, poking his arm with her index finger. When he lifted his head slightly to gaze at her questioningly, she whispered "You don't like needles, do you?"

He shook his head slightly and responded with an equally quiet "No I do not," before letting his head drop down again.

"Okay Ratchet, here we go. You're going to feel a little pressure," Sarah said gently as she cut a small incision with the scalpel, setting it aside and picking up the long needle afterward. She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulder for a moment, as if preparing to throw the first pitch in a baseball game, and bent low so that she was nearly eye-level with the incision on Ratchet's back as she began inserting the needle into the opening.

"How're you doing, Ratchet?" Sarah asked, eyes never leaving the incision as she slowly coaxed the needle into his chest cavity. Ratchet merely grunted in response and she pressed; "Feel any pain?"

"No," Ratchet said rather tightly.

Sarah looked up at Mikaela for a moment, who was standing apprehensively over the CMO, trying not to look at what the nurse was doing, and mouthed; '_Help him relax_.'

Mikaela crouched in front of Ratchet again, this time reaching out and taking hold of his hand. To her surprise, rather than being short with her and lecturing her about coddling him, his fingers wrapped around hers in a tight grip. She reached out to stroke his hair gently. "You okay?"

"Yes, fine," Ratchet said quietly.

"You're doing great, Ratchet," Sarah said encouragingly from behind them. "We're about halfway done by the looks of things. There's quite a bit of fluid- Will, can you hand me that second bottle from my bag? The big clear one, yeah the one that's empty... Thank you. Ratchet, you're going to feel a little pressure again for a second as I'm switching the bottles. The first one is full already."

"Of course," Ratchet mumbled.

Mikaela continued to run her fingers through Ratchet's hair, putting light pressure on his scalp as he tried to hold still. A few minutes passed and finally Sarah announced "All done. I'm going to pull the tube out now and patch you up."

Ratchet merely grunted noncommittally as Sarah removed the tube and patched up the small puncture wound it left behind with some sterile gauze and medical tape. "You can sit up now," she informed him, wrapping the discarded tube and extracted fluids in thick plastic and putting them in a separate bag.

Mikaela helped Ratchet to sit against the headboard again, alarmed that the CMO didn't seem to have enough strength to do it alone as he leaned heavily into her. Sarah, ever observant, informed them "We're almost done. I'm going to patch up your leg and give you some instructions on how to care for everything you've got going and then we'll be on our way."

"I am grateful for your assistance Sarah, Will," Ratchet said sincerely. "I appreciate it more than you know. I will never be able to repay you appropriately."

"Consider this our repayment to you," Will said, lifting an eyebrow. "How many times have you either saved or help save the entire population of Earth?"

"He's got a point there, Ratchet," Mikaela agreed, patting the CMO on his uninjured knee.

Sarah merely smiled as she opened and laid out another kit, this one clearly designed for suturing. "It really isn't an issue. And they're right," she agreed.

"I'm going to cleanse this with saline," Sarah informed Ratchet as she bent low over his leg to begin wiping the area around where the skin was split open. Ratchet hissed, all of his muscles tensing at once as her gloved hands came into contact with the area around the wound.

"Sorry," Sarah said, gentling her touch.

In an attempt to distract the CMO as Sarah washed the wound on his leg, Mikaela said the first thing that popped into her head: "Tell us what happened to your Cybertronian frame, Ratchet."

Will's interest piqued at this and he pushed himself from the wall to come and stand at the foot of the bed. "Yeah, I'd like to know exactly what happened. My contact said that you had your... spark ripped from your chest. He said they'd hauled your body away in several pieces."

Mikaela's eyes widened and she turned to look at the CMO, who gazed levelly at her in return.

"You wanted to know? There's your answer."

Mikaela bit her lip fretfully, averting her gaze to her bedroom floor.

"I'm not upset with you, Mikaela," Ratchet sighed. "I know that you are confused and concerned... I myself am still reeling with the events that transpired and led me to this point."

There was silence as Will and Mikaela looked at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to continue. Ratchet grumbled.

"Seeing as this apparently extremely pertinent question is never going to go away until the lot of you have had your curiosity satiated," the CMO sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling. "I shall indulge you."

"I had hoped to stay in California for as much time as I could, to keep an eye on certain human females who have a knack for getting into trouble," Ratchet explained, not even sparing a glance at Mikaela as she 'tsk'-ed and rolled her eyes in a nearly perfect mirror image of her mentor's earlier gesture. "I managed to keep to the outskirts of larger cities for a time until eventually I had become suspicious of being watched and followed, at which point I began hiding deeper into the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

I kept off the main roads, moving constantly to avoid detection until one day I received a distress signal from a Cybertronian approaching the Southeastern border of California, near Death Valley. It was a call for help, one that could not be ignored and I set out to meet them, despite the danger of being discovered. I sent a responding signal to let them know I was heading in their direction and hoped to meet them."

"What if it was a 'Con?" Will asked.

"It was no Decepticon," Ratchet said, with a sorrowful shake of his head. "It was Sideswipe."

"Did he make it?" Mikaela asked, chewing her lip in anxiety. Sideswipe had always been one of her favorites - lively and mischievous as he was.

"I am afraid I don't know. I did not make beyond the outskirts of San Francisco before I began to pick up other Cybertronian signals -_ foreign_ signals. It was Lockdown and his crew. They are neither Autobot nor Decepticon, but Cybertronian bounty hunters who sell their services to the highest bidder. I had thought - had _hoped_ - that Lockdown's spark had been extinguished hundreds of years ago, at the start of the war and not any of us had heard a single indicator otherwise... But when his signal flooded my radar I knew I had been mistaken. Further, I had thrown myself headlong into a trap, although I feel it was somewhat improvised. I believe that Lockdown was also pursuing Sideswipe. I rather doubt he expected me to turn up until I was close enough within range to be detected as well," Ratchet said sourly, in a way that made it sound as though he were lecturing himself rather than relaying the events of his capture to the three humans in the room. "I did the only thing I could, and sought cover. He was too close for me to go far - I made it to the bay before I was cut off, and attempted to conceal myself in a dilapidated and abandoned ferry."

There was silence, rapt and thick, as Ratchet continued. "It was a critical mistake, as I cornered myself even though I knew very well that Lockdown had the technology to ferret me out easily. I was not thinking. They used infrared radar to reveal my location and attacked immediately, without so much as an exchanged word."

"They?" Mikaela prompted.

"The human organization I spoke to you about months ago. They had apparently accompanied Lockdown on his little... _hunt_," he spat the word like it was acid. "Still, my protocols and Optimus' beliefs about harming humans kept me from returning fire. I attempted to flee, but there were too many and they had sealed off any chance I had at escape."

_Hold your fire! Can you not see that I am injured?_

"Cemetery Wind," Will sighed. "Initially, we were told that they were hunting Decepticons - as far as the President is aware, they still are. When that buddy of mine that works with them contacted me and told me they were destroying Autobots as well... I couldn't believe what I was hearing."

"They have hunted us ruthlessly and without mercy, using Lockdown's technology and prowess for capturing_ bounty_."

_What is _wrong_ with you humans?_

"Lockdown, generous as he is, offered me an ultimatum," Ratchet spat, disgust clear in his tone.

_There is one way you survive: Tell me where he's hiding. _Where _is Optimus Prime?_

"Optimus' location for my life."

"_You _chose to give your_ life_," Mikaela whispered incredulously, tears springing to her eyes.

"Yes. I would not betray him. "

_Never._

Even Sarah stopped her work on his wounded leg at that point and glanced up at him, admiration painted plainly across her soft features.

"Just before my spark was extinguished..." Ratchet took a somewhat shaky breath, closing his eyes as Sarah began to stitch the flesh of his leg together. "Rather, just before my spark _would have been_ extinguished, I had a strange urge - call it instinct if you will - to push my consciousness into my holomatter form. I cannot quite explain why I had this urge, as obviously this body is much weaker than my true form - I can simply say that it was a reaction to what I had feared was the end of my life."

"It was a desperate endeavor. One last attempt at saving my own existence," he said, and Mikaela thought he sounded somewhat bitter. "On Cybertron, long ago... we had explored the possibility of pushing our entire consciousness into another form. Theoretically... it was possible, but it was too dangerous of a theory to experiment with or test in a controlled environment, and most thought it entirely preposterous in the first place. Many believed that the concept of transplanting a soul, if you will, was disturbing and beyond the will of Primus. Needless to say, most attempts at that type of experimentation were unsuccessful and I suspect that even the few that may have been successful were covered up and made to look otherwise."

"How would you even do that?" Will asked from where he leaned against the wall, brows furrowed in confusion. "How would you move your soul from one body to another?"

"Thus is the nature of a Cybertronian," Ratchet explained. "Our bodies are not born. They are _created_. Built."

"What about your soul, then?"

"_Sparks_," Mikaela corrected, with an encouraging nod from Ratchet. "Their sparks are made much like human bodies are - through reproduction, through mating. But that is all they are until they are transferred to a vessel, a protoform - a _body_."

"It is a sacrosanct practice, the transfer of a newly formed spark from its creator to its protoform, " Ratchet continued. "So delicate, so precise that fewer than fifty medics on Cybertron were able to perform such a task."

"Ratchet was one of them," Mikaela said quickly, quirking a grin when Ratchet '_hmph_'-ed at the blatant praise.

"Unlike humans, whose souls are bound to their flesh, Cybertronians are born without such limitations and will live their entire lives without being permanently bound to a single body. New frames may be formed and the spark of a mech may be transplanted many in their lifetime, although it was not common practice, as it was considered dangerous even under the best of circumstances" the CMO said.

"Okay," Will said slowly. "Now I get the soul thing... but what about your human body? I thought your holoform was just a solid projection tied to your real bodies."

"Nanites," Ratchet explained. "_Billions_ of tiny nanites brought together to form the shape of something else - a human body, in this instance. As we became more and more familiar with the concept of the human form and its functionality, the nanites adapted to our new understanding. Rather than forming an empty shell, they began to mold themselves after a fully functioning human body with working organs and receptors that acted as nerve endings. Though we really had no use for the technology at the time, I began to study the process closely.

I also began looking into the possibility of spark-transfer after Optimus' spark was extinguished by Megatron roughly eight years ago. There were so few of us, even then... and our Prime's death put that into sharp perspective. Eventually, I began combining my research on nanites with the possibility of spark transfer. Perhaps it was fear that drove me to begin looking for a solution in a method previously condemned by our species, or perhaps it was simple determination - call it what you will. I spent years researching what I could in the few remaining medical trial documents I had hauled with me when we fled Cybertron, but I did not begin truly experimenting with the idea until a few months before the battle of Chicago. By then we were losing those few left in our ranks so quickly that I had began to grow desperate in attempt to find something to mitigate the loss... to stop the _death_."

"But what about the actual act of transferring your spark, Ratchet?" Mikaela said thoughtfully. "I thought that it had to be physically extracted by a medic or scientist and put in another body."

"Initially that is the very thought that nearly stopped my research before it truly began, Mikaela," Ratchet sighed. "That was before we truly began to experiment with our holoforms, however. Eventually we discovered that it was, in truth, rather simple to transfer our living consciousness from one form to another. It's a process similar to that which the human species refers to as 'meditation.' A simple, yet complex disconnect of thoughts and present awareness. The only real difference is, rather than confining ourselves to a spiritual void, we project our awareness into another object... our human holoforms."

"But I thought you said you didn't start to actually experiment with the idea of spark transfer until around the time Chicago got hit? You guys all had functioning holoforms way before then..." Will said.

"Yes, but even with the use of holoforms we had never transferred our entire being into another body. Part of our spark was always connected with our true forms, even from a distance. We never had any real reason to completely sever that connection, never mind the fact that it was extremely dangerous, as I previously explained. There was always the possibility of an incomplete transfer - leaving a spark stuck in between planes - in between bodies, where it would be immediately extinguished. So much could have gone wrong."

"But you _did it_," Mikaela said breathlessly, looking at her teacher in a whole new light. "You managed it. You did what no one had ever even had the guts to even attempt, let alone _succeed_ in."

"Consider the death of a star," Ratchet said. "It is the closest thing I can liken to the sensation I felt. My soul exploded outward like a supernova and was scattered across the universe for a millisecond, not even long enough for me to grasp what was happening, before it gathered again in a different place than it had been originally. I did not even have time to consider it. It was a subconscious heave of my soul as I stared into the eyes of death... I severed my soul from my Cybertronian form. I carried my entire _existence_ with me. All of my memories, all of my habits, all of my imperfections... even my wounds. _Obviously_," he hissed as Sarah tied off her last stitch on his leg with satisfaction.

"When I came to I was floating in the bay, far enough from them to avoid detection, but still close enough to see what had transpired. I saw them," Ratchet said, his voice rough. "I saw them haul the shell of what had once been my body away. I watched them from a distance as they simply loaded up and left without so much as a glance back. And I knew, from that moment, that I could trust no human with the exception of those few who had been with us from the very beginning."

"That's horrible," Sarah said finally as she carefully packed away her supplies. "I can't believe that our own people would do something so cold... You have helped us, _saved _us more than once in the short time you've been on the planet. I just don't understand _why_."

"Your theory is as good as mine," Ratchet said. "I had no idea of the level of danger that we were in. If I had known that Cemetery Wind was working together with Lockdown and his mechs... I initially had surmised that Cemetery Wind was working independently to eliminate all Cybertronian life, under the guise of a military branch created to destroy the remaining Decepticon force on Earth. But if they're working with Lockdown and they're destroying both Autobots and Decepticons, well... I just do not have any reasonable theories to explain that turn of events."

"Wait, this all happened in San Francisco?" Mikaela asked. "How did you get all the way back to Tranquility like that?"

"I stumbled around for a while in a daze before I found my sense of direction and headed toward the eastern outskirts of the city," Ratchet admitted. "From there, I knew that there was an active coal-train route that eventually lead southeast through Tranquility and onward into Arizona. I... managed to sneak onto one of the cars and here I am. Honestly, I did not even consider where I was going - I already knew. I was coming to the only human I thought I could still trust."

Mikaela and Ratchet shared a small smile.

Sarah and Will hadn't stayed much longer after that - only long enough to help move Ratchet out of the bed and into the shower so he could wash all the dirt and grime and dried blood off of himself while Will stood vigilantly in the door to the bathroom. Mikaela and Sarah took the opportunity to strip the sheets off her bed and throw them in the wash with all of the other soiled cloths, rags and towels so they could put fresh ones on by the time Ratchet was done showering. Will had been kind enough to offer Ratchet the overnight bag he kept stuffed in the back of his truck for emergencies. It had a pair of pajama bottoms, casual jeans and two T-shirts, as well as some other basics such as a toothbrush, shaving razor and deodorant that the CMO would need until Mikaela could make it out to the store.

Mikaela had only just finished throwing the pillows back on the neatly made bed when a dripping but clean Ratchet, supported around the waist by Will, limped back in clad in the colonel's black pajama pants. Mikaela barely restrained her humorous grin when Ratchet shot her a look that clearly said '_say anything and I will make you regret it_'. The CMO took one look at the fresh bed before he realized what was going on and shook his head at the mechanic.

"I am not taking your bed, Mikaela."

"The hell you aren't," Mikaela shot back. "Where do you think you're going to sleep, the floor?"

"Better me than you."

"Uhm, no. You're hurt. You're sick. I'm fine. It's my house," Mikaela said incredulously. "I'll decide who sleeps where. _I'm _taking the floor. You take the bed."

"_Neither_ of you need to sleep on the floor," Will said, throwing his hands up in exasperation after he helped the CMO to sit on the bed. "I have a cot in the truck. I'll bring it in."

"I will sleep on the cot th-" Ratchet was cut off by an absolutely venomous look from Mikaela as Will stepped out to the front room. Sighing, he conceded, "Fine. But I do not approve."

"Yeah, well I do," Mikaela said, smirking in satisfaction when Ratchet grumbled about her picking up too many of his habits. Sarah merely shook her head good-naturedly and helped her husband unfold and set up the small cot across from the bed, against the wall.

Once Ratchet was settled (grumbling about human custom and the unduly lavish style of human sleeping arrangements and bedding the whole time - a factor which Sarah had assured him he'd be thankful for later), Mikaela walked Will and Sarah out to her front porch.

"I'm sure he already knows all of this, but I'm going to tell you also just in case. It's going to be a few days until his lungs feel normal again," Sarah had told her before they left. "And it could take more than a week until they're back to 100% functionality. Make sure he's not straining himself until then. I also left a sling for his left arm to prevent a lot of movement to that side of his body - he should use it until his shoulder heals. He's going to be uncomfortable for a while, so I left you some more low-grade pain killers as well as some codeine if things get too bad, though I doubt he'll like that."

Mikaela agreed. Ratchet would sooner suffer through the pain than admit he even had it, let alone take anything strong for it. "What about his leg?"

"Try to keep it uncovered, exposed to air as much as possible. It will heal faster that way, but I've also left you some wrap in case it needs to be bandaged up. In the meantime, he shouldn't be walking on it if he can help it. He may be able to put more weight on it in a few days, but I won't be able to take the stitches out for at least another week so he needs to avoid stretching them or tearing them until then."

Mikaela nodded.

"As far as the fever goes, it's likely from shock or... something having to do with his body transfer... thing. I honestly couldn't say what the known symptoms of that entail, as I've never heard of anything even close to it, obviously. Nothing is infected, so that is not an immediate concern. If his fever spikes and stays above 103 for more than thirty minutes or he develops a serious cough or begins bleeding or _any _other alarming changes, _please_ call me. You have our number."

Mikaela had hugged them both and thanked them profusely one last time, waving at them from the front porch as they pulled out of the driveway and disappeared into the darkness. She shuffled back into the house, tiredly making a mental note to clean up the blood and water spots that were all over the entryway and hardwood floors leading to her bedroom in the morning when she wasn't feeling like she would fall asleep on her feet any moment.

Flipping off lights as she went, she smiled at the sight that greeted her when she made it back to the doorway of her bedroom. Ratchet had settled in to lay down on his side, facing her, his uninjured arm pillowing his head as he was struggling in vain to keep his eyes open.

She padded softly around to the other side of the bed, the CMO's eyes following her the whole time, and leaned over him to lay a soft kiss on his forehead. He reached up to squeeze her hand briefly as she turned to go to the cot.

"Goodnight, little one. Thank you for everything."

"Of course, Ratchet," Mikaela responded quietly. "I'm glad you're here."

It only took a moment for the exhausted medic to finally drift off into sleep and the mechanic finally climbed into the cot and wrapped herself in her blankets, smiling softly as darkness crept in and sleep carried her away.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Whew, that one took a lot of effort to turn out. I'm already well into chapter four, so I should have another update coming soon! As always, reviews are most helpful and I am open to suggestions.


	4. Into the Open Air

**Author's Note:** Moving along slowly, here. This one is a little less doom and gloom, but also a bit short. Hopefully the rapid change in overtone doesn't throw y'all off. As always, reviews are wonderful and inspiring. A huge thank you to those who have already taken the time to leave me one or more!

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**Chapter 4: Into the Open Air**

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Mikaela was jolted awake by the sound of crashing thunder sometime around 2am that morning. She shot upright in the cot, breathing heavily, her hair sticking to the sweat on her face and neck. She wiped at her skin irritably, pushing her raven locks out of her eyes with both hands and trying to breathe deeply.

'_Another nightmare_,' she thought. _'Chill out, Mikaela. Just another nightmare_.'

A soft sound to her left made Mikaela jump, and she squinted through the dim light as lightning flashed against her walls.

Ratchet writhed in the darkness, his head thrashing back and forth, eyes tightly shut against whatever nightmarish thing was invading his sleep. Mikaela all but leapt from her cot, stumbling blindly in the dark momentarily before making her way over to switch on the lamp that sat upon her bedside table. She was dismayed to see sweat clinging to Ratchet's skin, which had gone pale once more in the faint light.

"Ratchet," she tried softly, hesitant to touch him. He was, after all, still a soldier... and she'd seen what could happen firsthand when you tried to shake a soldier out of a nightmare.

"Ratchet," she said, a little more insistently. When he didn't respond to her voice, she reached out tentatively to trail her fingers down the side of his sweat-soaked bicep. She regretted it instantly as his hand shot out with transcendent speed to wrap around her forearm in a bruising grip, and the only thing that kept Mikaela from crying out was sheer shock. She twisted slightly and tugged, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp and failing. Stamping down her rising feeling of panic, she glanced down at his face and his dazed, half-lidded eyes caught hers. She tried not to look too worried at Ratchet's confused stare, though for a moment it seemed as though he didn't recognize her.

"Ratchet?"

He didn't respond, eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ground himself as he shifted uncomfortably, a small grunt of pain escaping him as he undoubtedly stretched his newly stitched wounds.

"Ratch?" Mikaela tried again, putting her free hand on his shoulder gently to still him, relieved when he did not flinch away.

"Mikaela," he whispered finally, blinking slowly at her and releasing his grip on her arm. "I apologize. I... was momentarily disoriented."

"It's okay," Mikaela said quietly. "I probably shouldn't have touched you... You were having a nightmare."

There was a tense silence, filled with only the sounds of Ratchet's somewhat ragged breathing.

"It looks like your fever's gone up. I'll go get some more ibuprofen. I'll be right back, okay?"

Ratchet grunted noncommittally.

When Mikaela returned a moment later with the bottle of medicine and a glass of water, as well as another bowl of cool water and some more cloths, Ratchet had managed to sit up and prop himself against the headboard again, staring somewhat dazedly at his hands and flexing his fingers experimentally.

"What are you doing?" The mechanic asked, setting her armful of things on the bedside table.

Ratchet said nothing, merely sighing as he lowered his hands back to the surface of the sheets, but Mikaela understood.

_'Those aren't _his_ hands_,' she thought_. 'They're the hands of a human. They lack the sensors and tools and gadgets that he has always used. They are less sensitive and less precise_. _He can't even do a fraction of the things that he did before using human hands... He always said that his hands are the only tools he really needed and a medic is nothing without them.'_

She couldn't even fathom what it would be like to suddenly have a body that wasn't hers. A _lesser_ body, she realized, and flinched away from the harsh thought, as truthful as it may have been. She figured it would be something akin to a human being transferred into the body of a... of a _penguin_, or something like that.

The thought made her snort out loud and Ratchet shot her a sideways glance, curiosity dancing lightly across his tight features.

"I am glad that you find this humorous," the CMO said dryly.

"Sorry," Mikaela said, sitting on the edge of the bed and opening the bottle of ibuprofen to offer a few to him. "Got lost in thought. Wasn't laughing at you."

The mechanic frowned when she handed him the glass of water and small pills, noticing the fine tremors in his hands as he took them from her. She leaned back to grab one of the smaller cloths off the table, dipping it in the cool water and wringing it out. "How do you feel?"

"Unwell," Ratchet said honestly. "Quite frankly, this is very unpleasant."

"How about your shoulder and your ribs? Your leg? Any different? More painful?"

"No more than a few hours ago," Ratchet said, somewhat tightly as he was berated with questions. "The pain has decreased slightly with the NSAID's that I have taken. Otherwise, I feel mostly... exhausted."

"You're a little under par," the mechanic responded quietly with a touch of humor, gently pressing the cool cloth against the overly warm skin of the medic's forehead. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"It was my wish that you would never have to," Ratchet responded with a scowl. "This is entirely new to me."

"It'll pass. I know it's uncomfortable now, but you'll get better."

Ratchet scoffed lightly. "When did you earn your medical certification?"

"Hey, _one_ of us has to have a decent bedside manner. _Obviously _it's got to be me," Mikaela teased.

Ratchet, who had been about to rise to the bait, went stock still suddenly, his eyes fixed on the mechanic's arm. "Mikaela," he said slowly. "Let me see your arm."

Mikaela shifted uncomfortably, realizing that Ratchet had spied the finger-shaped marks on her forearm and moved to hide said arm behind her back.

"Girl," Ratchet growled. "Do not test my patience, for I have very little to offer at this moment. _Let me see your arm_."

Rather than test _those_ waters, Mikaela reluctantly offered Ratchet her arm, sighing in frustration as he took it with gentle hands and lightly inspected the finger shaped marks in her forearm that were beginning to faintly bruise.

"I hurt you."

It was a simple statement, but Mikaela easily picked up on the fierce undertone of guilt.

"You were having a nightmare," she responded, shrugging. "It's no big deal, Ratchet."

"Like Pit it isn't."

"Look, it was an accident. I'm not worried about it, so you shouldn't be either. It's not like you broke my damn arm. So you left a mark - so what? Like I haven't had worse." Ratchet threw her a sharp look and Mikaela rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's enough self recrimination for you for one night. It's time for you to go back to sleep."

Ratchet arched a dark eyebrow. "Using large words now, I see."

"Shut up," Mikaela grumbled, resisting the urge to smack the injured CMO on the arm.

Ratchet, to the mechanic's surprise (and slight concern) said nothing in retort, merely sighing as he shifted to lay down and stare raptly at his fingers again.

Mikaela frowned, laying the cool cloth over the CMO's forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay," the brunette responded quietly. "Well, if you change your mind..."

Ratchet grunted, gingerly shifting to lay on his side. Mikaela smirked. It seemed even several-thousand-year-old robots could be pouty when the occasion called for it. With this thought in mind she slid silently back into her cot, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling and waiting until she heard Ratchet's breathing even out before falling back to sleep herself.

Mikaela woke slowly the next morning, waiting for her body to adjust to being awake before she even acknowledged the new day. She groaned slightly as she moved - her bed felt strange beneath her, harder somehow... and smaller. The light from her bedroom windows seemed to be hitting her at a different angle than usual and, though her eyes were still closed, her brows knit together in a frown as she struggled through the thick haze of sleep to remember the night before.

Her eyes snapped open with a start as she remembered the events that had turned everything upside down the previous night. Answering the door to find a soaked stranger standing on her threshold, half-supporting, half carrying the bloodied and battered form of the Autobot's Chief Medical Officer into her house... the rush of activity as Sarah and Will Lennox came to their aid with medical supplies and knowledge. The amber fluid that was drawn from Ratchet's lungs by the huge syringe in Sarah's gloved fingers, the silent pull of stitching thread as Sarah sewed Ratchet's wounds closed and the pain behind Ratchet's eyes as he gazed at his hands...

Her head swiveled around to her bed but, where she had expected to find the prone form of a still-sleeping human CMO, she found nothing but smoothed sheets and neatly arranged pillows. Clenching her teeth against the curse that was threatening to escape, the mechanic all but threw herself from the army-issue cot and to her feet before stumbling sleepily into the living room. Finding it empty, she paused for a moment to see if her ears could detect any movement within the house.

"Ratchet?" she called hopefully.

This time she did curse when she heard nothing but the sound of her own rapid breathing.

_'Okay Mikaela, calm down'_ she thought. _'He couldn't have gone far. It's not like there were signs of a struggle and you were right there at the foot of the bed...'_

How the hell had that sneaky son of a bitch managed to creep past her with that bad leg anyway? Maybe she wasn't as much of a light sleeper as she thought she was.

With a deep breath she began looking through the house, popping her head into the hallway and verifying that the bathroom was empty and the front door was still shut tightly and locked. The kitchen was empty as she padded softly over the tiled floor and she leaned against the counter, trying to shove the flare of panic in her chest aside. A faint noise to her right caught the mechanic's attention and her searching eyes found that the back door to the kitchen was slightly ajar. She pushed herself off the counter and walked slowly to the door to look out into the back yard and there Ratchet was, settled in one of the chairs of her small patio set, his leg propped up in a second one and his head leaned tilted up against the back of the chair, staring into the blue of the morning sky.

Mikaela swore under her breath as she pushed the door open and stepped out onto the patio. "God _damnit_, Ratchet!"

Ratchet, who had obviously heard her blustering approach, looked over his shoulder at her with an air of simple disinterest. "Yes?"

"What- how... you can't-... I!" Mikaela stammered, her mouth feeling uncooperative. Ratchet raised an eyebrow at her.

"_You can't just run off like that_," she finally managed after a moment of flapping her arms somewhat wildly in a failed attempt at gesticulation.

"I can do as I please, Mikaela Banes," The CMO said, drawing himself up slightly, his back rigid. "Further, with the condition that I currently find myself in I assure you I did not_ run_ anywhere."

Mikaela gaped at him, feeling the beginnings of irritation seep into her flustered psyche.

"You know what I mean! You could have at least woken me before you-"

"You were sleeping soundly. There was no rational reason to wake you simply to inform you that I was going outside."

"You were sick and feverish and hurt and last night you were barely able to stand on your own! And then suddenly this morning I wake up and you're _gone._ I panicked!" Mikaela snapped, voice rising in her anger. "Wouldn't you?"

"Do not presume to treat me like an infant, Mikaela," Ratchet snapped back, scowling up at her. "You seem to forget that I am millennia older than you and have spent the last few centuries at war -"

"No, _you _seem toforget that you showed up soaking wet and half drowning in your own goddamn blood on my fucking porch in the middle of the night last night!" she shouted, well aware that the whole block could probably hear her but unable to muster enough will to care.

Ratchet averted his gaze, refusing to meet her eyes and a small, distant part of Mikaela's brain screamed at her to stop. This was Ratchet, for the love of god. _Ratchet_, who had cared for her and patched her up and given her advice and carried her through some of the darkest times in her life with nothing but gentle and unyielding guidance. Ratchet, who had kept in contact with her after she was flung from the world of NEST, even though he knew it was going against the human government's regulations, who had taught her everything she knew about Cybertronian medicine. He had saved her life, plucked her from danger more times than she could count and here she was, standing on her patio shouting angrily at him. Guilt welled up in her chest and she felt the heat of her anger leave her almost instantly.

"Look, I know you can take care of yourself Ratchet, but..." She sighed, pulling out a chair to sit across from him. "Let me help you. Or at least give me the peace of mind to know what you're up to."

"I do not require supervision, Mikaela," Ratchet responded, though she noticed all the fight had gone from his words as well.

"Dammit, Ratchet. Don't you get it? You're not invincible. You _died_," the brunette hissed. "You died and now, more than ever, I realize that you are a mortal just like the rest of us. It's a fact that had never really cemented itself in my mind until I got that god damn phone call from Will."

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing.

"I'm sorry," Miakaela said. "I just... I can't help it. I'm paranoid! This must be how you guys feel every time one of us throws ourselves headlong into danger."

"It must be," Ratchet responded quietly.

"I don't like it," the mechanic admitted, resting cheek in her hand and picking awkwardly at the snags in the vinyl tablecloth. "I'll stop if you stop. Deal?"

Ratchet 'hmm-ed' and Mikaela sighed, letting her head fall the rest of the way down to the table with a dull '_thunk_.' "What are you doing out here, anyway?" she mumbled.

"_Getting some air_, as you humans so aptly put it," Ratchet responded, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. "Being in such a small space is ... suffocating."

"My house isn't_ that_ small," Mikaela snorted. "Are you claustrophobic?"

"No."

Mikaela tilted a skeptical eyebrow and shot the CMO a half-smirk, but wisely said nothing more on the subject.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

A thoughtful look passed over Ratchet's stoic features as he reassessed himself for what was undoubtedly the tenth time that morning. "Better," he said finally. "My fever broke sometime near 3:00am this morning and some of the discomfort in my lungs seems to have gone."

"How are your leg and shoulder?"

"Painful, but manageable."

"You had to put your weight on it to get out here, didn't you?" Mikaela chastised. "You know Sarah said to stay off of it for a few days."

"Not much weight to _put_ on the slagging thing," Ratchet scowled and his stomach chose that moment to make itself known with a long gurgle. The CMO glared angrily down at it, as though his fierce look alone would keep it quiet.

_'Well,'_ Mikaela thought. _'To be fair, usually that glare does do wonders to shut things up.'_

Ratchet shifted a bit, pressing a hand over his abdomen as the sound came again.

Mikaela laughed. "Are you hungry?"

"Apparently."

Mikaela brightened considerably upon the realization that she had been suddenly and surreptitiously graced with the privilege of introducing the Autobot CMO to the sensational wonders that made up the realm of human cuisine. She smiled deviously at him from across the table and was rewarded with a puzzled frown and - _could that be a little apprehension_?

"Could have so much fun with this," Mikaela grinned shamelessly. "There are so many things for you to try!"

Ratchet eyed her dubiously. "Why do I have the feeling that you are going to enjoy this way more than you should?"

"Because I am _definitely going to_ enjoy this way more than I should," Mikaela nodded.

Ratchet heaved a sigh of long suffering as Mikaela climbed to her feet.

"Okay, inside with you. Let's get some breakfast," she said. "I'll help you in. Guess we should get you some crutches at some point..."

"Slag it girl," Ratchet snarled. "I told you I am_ fine_ to walk."

"Suck it up Cupcake," Mikaela grunted, heaving him up by his arm, despite his protests. "Sarah said no weight on that leg. I'm not going to be the one to tell her you broke your stitches open because you were too stubborn to follow doctor's orders - orders that you _know _are good ones."

Ratchet lapsed into a brilliant spat of profanity as she maneuvered them similarly to the way she had done when he had first come to her the evening before, only this time he was conscious enough to keep a hefty percentage of his weight off her and on his good leg. Even so, she nearly slipped on the kitchen floor as she turned to kick the door closed behind her and Ratchet threw his arm out to steady them both against the counter.

"Now who is unsteady?" he said under his breath and earned a swat on his good shoulder for his efforts.

"You're heavier than you look," Mikaela grumbled back in reply as she all but dumped him into one of the kitchen chairs. "That's not saying much though, because you look pretty _scrawny_."

Ratchet glared at her and she laughed before turning to begin rummaging around in the cabinets. "I've got cereal," she said, muffled by the cabinet door. "And more cereal... Oh, and cereal!"

"_Cereal_," Ratchet repeated, nonplussed.

"Yep, that's what we got," Mikaela confirmed. "Unless you want icecream. Or leftover Chinese. Or - ooh, I think I've got some ramen around here somewhere-"

"Primus," Ratchet sighed, effectively ending the mechanic's rambling. "Do you have nothing of any nutritional value whatsoever?"

Mikaela seemed to think about it for a moment, eyes lighting up in revelation and opening her mouth once before closing it again with a frown... thinking some more...

"Nope," she finally said, and Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose again. He could feel another headache coming on.

"Here," Mikaela said brightly, putting the bowl that she had filled on the table in front of him and dropping a spoon into it. "Cocoa Puffs. You'll like 'em, trust me."

Ratchet stared at her blankly.

"_Oookay_, so I'm going to go get that sling for your arm and probably some more ibuprofen... and maybe an icepack for your ribs," Mikaela rambled off as she walked out of the kitchen, leaving the CMO to stew in silence.

Ratchet sighed and grudgingly began to eat the bowl of... _cereal_ Mikaela had placed in front of him.

It was going to be a _long_ day.


	5. Everything In Waves

**Author's Note**: This chapter was ridiculously fun to write. Most of it is pretty lighthearted, and outlines how Ratchet adjusts to his new human form (or at least my take on how he would adjust.) Gonna start ramping up soon, and the timeline of this fic is about to meet with that of the film.

**Chapter 5**: Everything In Waves

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_Safety net, don't hold me now_  
_ In this hole I've fallen down_  
_ Secret home I made and found_  
_ A new way to breathe_

* * *

The next week had come and gone quicker than Mikaela had expected. They had spent the majority of their time experimenting with new things for Ratchet to try and Mikaela had enjoyed it more than she would ever admit to the CMO, and she'd learned a few new things about him in the process as well.

After a few days Mikaela had finally convinced him he couldn't live solely off of vegetables and tofu, particularly after Ratchet found that he was absolutely repulsed by the flavorless, jiggly, white health food that was soybean curd. Following a particularly long and expensive grocery shopping trip, she'd finally convinced him to try a few things that were outside of his pre-established comfort zone. They'd found that Ratchet loved _watermelon_ with passion that made the mechanic laugh, though he seemed to be allergic to mangos (if the hives had been anything to go by). The smell of cilantro made him want to vomit, and he couldn't stomach the texture of shrimp. He was fine with eating poultry, but the idea of eating eggs both horrified and repulsed him. As for certain chocolate flavored cereals, well... Let's just say that early one morning Mikaela had shuffled into the kitchen to find Ratchet rooting around in the cabinets looking for the Cocoa Puffs and had said nothing, merely shaking her head and shuffling back out again.

Ratchet had somewhat cautiously taken in his surroundings while using his sense of smell, both intrigued and disheartened by the fact that he could only smell one thing at a time, rather than separate each smell on its own within a one mile radius. Mikaela, personally, thought this was fantastic because it limited his ability to point out whatever pheromones were floating about with a hilariously inappropriate comment, thank you very much.

Despite the rapid return of his snarky, confident and sharp personality, Mikaela couldn't help but notice the occasional helpless look that passed over Ratchet's normally schooled features, particularly when it came to being unable to do simple tasks due to the injuries he had sustained. Mikaela wondered whether it was_ because_ of these injuries, or whether it was because he simply felt inferior confined inside of a human body. Idly, she wondered if he would be stuck like this forever, and whether he would accept such a fate if it came down to it - but she always shoved those thoughts aside with an acerbic frown. They would cross that damned bridge when they came to it.

The mechanic was pleased with how easily Ratchet adapted to the typical menial human tasks around the house, such as doing laundry and dishes and once or twice she'd even caught him at the kitchen table thumbing through one of her cookbooks and muttering to himself. Ratchet, cooking? Now that would be the day.

Eventually Ratchet got tired of wearing the same two outfits cycled throughout the week and '_looking like a lazy college student_,' as Mikaela had aptly described it, and they both agreed it was time to procure him some normal clothing. The mechanic was more than a little anxious at the thought of having the former Cybertronian out in the open, even though the likelihood of him being recognized was slim to none... Even the slightest chance of him being discovered made Mikaela's stomach tie itself in knots, a sentiment that Ratchet somewhat hesitantly echoed, and so she had taken it upon herself to go out and pick up a suitable wardrobe for the CMO on her own. After a somewhat intense four-hour shopping trip, she had hauled her numerous bags into the house and dumped all of the contents into a disorganized heap on the bed. They spent the next half of the afternoon sorting through the collared polo shirts and long sleeved button-up shirts (not unlike the one his holo had always worn), as well as some comfortable T-shirts, jeans, black pants, a couple pairs of sweat pants and a green, military style jacket. Ratchet seemed satisfied with her choice in footwear: a pair of loafers and a pair of sturdy but light-weight boots. As an afterthought, she bought a pair of light-duty black-framed glasses, as they had found that Ratchet's human form really _did_ need them - but only to read and, oddly enough, to see the detail in his food. He refused to eat without them and Mikaela wasn't sure whether she should be amused or slightly _offended_.

The CMO had been somewhat interested in experiencing the various daily routines of organics firsthand and had keenly noted the several similarities and differences between them and those of Cybertronians. Ratchet had explained that self-care was somewhat similar, particularly the concept of showering - the only differences being Cybertronian solvent vs. human soap (and the idea that humans used more than one type of cleanser in a single episode both interested and irritated him) and the fact that human bodies had a _great _deal less of those hard to reach spots than Cybertronian frames did. He was rather cynical when it came to the idea of brushing his teeth, though he did so almost religiously after discovering the clean feeling it left him with afterward.

There had been one particularly interesting moment a few days in - just when the dark stubble on Ratchet's face had began to approach unbearable levels in his opinion - that Mikaela had wandered out of her bedroom to find Ratchet locked in the bathroom. Curious, she had stood in the hallway, tilting her head toward the door to find only the sound of the tap running on the bathroom sink. After a few moments her curiosity had won over and she had tapped lightly on the bathroom door with two fingers.

"Ratchet?"

A sigh and a long-suffering "_Yes_?"

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he snapped, and this was accompanied by a metallic sounding _clank_ against the ceramic surface of the sink.

Mikaela frowned. "What are you _doing_?"

"Ridding myself of this ridiculous facial hair!" came the tight reply. Mikaela's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

Ratchet was _shaving_? Now there was a foreign concept... Will _had_ left him a razor in that duffle bag, but did the CMO even know how to use it?

Unable to help herself, Mikaela responded "... Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

An inarticulate snarl answered and she snorted, moving onward into the kitchen.

To the mechanic's immense surprise, Ratchet had emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later clean shaven and smooth, without a single laceration to his face. Needless to say, Mikaela had been impressed. Ratchet had been smug.

He watched Mikaela sift through the day's tasks with polite fascination, always observing and occasionally asking questions - such as why she found it necessary to cover the kitchen counters in that foul smelling, acidic chemical agent (bleach) _twice _in a row, even though doing so a second time did not rid the countertops of any more germs that the first pass didn't get rid of. Mikaela had politely explained that it was simply one of her quirks and she bleached_ everything_, and often.

Or, why was she obliged to fix her hair in a different way each day - to which Mikaela had snarled at him that her hair had a mind of its own and clearly Ratchet didn't know what it was like to have a 'bad hair day,' which she was having at precisely that moment. She let loose a frustrated scream as her hair refused to stay pinned back for what had to be the tenth time that morning and the CMO had simply shrugged as he absently fingered the tie that kept his own hair in a neat ponytail at his neck.

One afternoon had found Mikaela feeling particularly restless after spending so long in the house and she had let loose a bit while cleaning the kitchen by throwing on her stereo and blaring Enrique Iglesias' '_Bailando_.' Throwing on her cleaning gloves, she started scrubbing at the dishes in the sink, but only made it about a quarter of the way through the song before the urge to dance around to the rhythm won over and saw her stepping away, gloves still on her hands, and shaking her hips to the rhythm.

She had looked around innocently, making sure that Ratchet was still sitting in the back yard and would not witness her girlish enthusiasm before she really got into it, cranking up the volume on her stereo even louder so that the drumbeats pouring from her speakers made the air around her vibrate with the sound. She spun, her hair catching around her shoulders and neck, and lifted her arms to cross her wrists above her head, swaying and rolling her hips and stomach in time with the music, uncaring that she was getting water all over the floor.

In her distraction, she had failed to notice the back door open as Ratchet stepped in, frowning at and obviously drawn in by the loud music. He stepped out of the back entryway and into the kitchen and froze, a curse at the noisy music dying on his lips as Mikaela danced across the kitchen in her shorts and tank top and cleaning gloves, eyes closed and clearly oblivious to his presence.

Ratchet crossed his arms and leaned lightly on the doorway to the kitchen and tilting an amused eyebrow as Mikaela started belting out Spanish lyrics in time with the song, content to watch in interest as the human girl expended most of her energy on actively dancing around the tiled floor.

The music eventually died down and Mikaela laughed, breathing heavily from her exertions and pushing her hair out of her face, her skin slightly damp with sweat. Ratchet cleared his throat and she spun around so quickly that her bare feet slipped on the wet floor and she let out a startled squeal, grabbing at the edge of the counter in a futile attempt to break her own fall. Ratchet started forward with the intent to steady her, but too late, as she landed rather hard on her side on the floor with a wet 'slap' of her bare legs. Both of them cursed in unison as the CMO stepped forward to stand next to her.

"Are you alright?" Ratchet said, concern replacing the amusement on his face as he knelt on his good leg beside her, sliding an arm under her shoulders to help her up.

"I'm fine," Mikaela mumbled, scrambling to her feet largely on her own. "I'm not hurt. Just my _pride_."

The amused look returned to Ratchet's features as he drew himself up to stand beside her and she pulled her gloves off hastily, feeling warmth creep up her neck and into her cheeks as she blushed fiercely, and threw them into the sink before awkwardly edging around the still amused CMO to remove herself from his line of sight.

His chuckle had followed her all the way into her bedroom.

After that she had resolutely contained her dancing to her bedroom, which had a lock on the door. Meanwhile, when his still-healing injuries allowed him, Ratchet had taken to sitting, cross-legged and still for long periods of time. She would frequently find him either on the rug in the living room or out in the center of the backyard lawn with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, slowly inhaling and exhaling through his nose, his face more relaxed than she often saw it. One day she had asked him if he was meditating, to which he replied simply:

"I am tuning myself to this human form."

Whatever _that _meant.

Ratchet, stubborn ass that he was, had been quick to heal. He was favoring his leg less and less as time passed and though he still wore the sling to immobilize his shoulder most of the time, he had began to do light strengthening exercises by the end of the week. He had felt the need to ice his ribs less and eventually had forced Mikaela out of the cot, literally hoisting her up out of it with his uninjured arm and tossing her on the bed one evening, despite her hissed expletives and threats to tell Sarah that he was overexerting himself.

When Sarah had stopped by again to check his progress and remove his stitches over a week later, she had given him a (relatively) clean bill of health. She advised him to give his ribs and lungs a while longer to settle and firmly told him to avoid strenuous activity, while Mikaela had stared pointedly at him from across the table they were all seated around.

Ratchet, for his part, nodded respectfully and listened attentively as Sarah carefully snipped away the stitching thread that had held the flesh of his leg together. Mikaela was pleased to see that the jagged hole had been replaced with a pale, pink, still-healing scar and even more pleased to see the painless expression on the CMO's face as he stretched his leg experimentally. Sarah had cleared him to start walking fully on his healing leg again and Mikaela had snorted out loud because it wasn't as though he hadn't been doing exactly that every time she wasn't looking anyway, and this earned her a sharp kick to her shin under the table from Ratchet for her trouble.

The night after Sarah had left, the two of them were sitting at Mikaela's kitchen table exchanging casual conversation and bantering back and forth as they discussed Mikaela's cooking skills (or perhaps lack thereof, as far as Ratchet was concerned) when the phone rang. Mikaela flicked some of the water from her glass at the CMO in retaliation for his teasing as she pushed her chair back to go and retrieve her cell from the countertop. She squinted at the name on the screen and activated the call, grinning mischievously as Ratchet glared at her, removing his glasses with a put-upon look and wiping them clean with his napkin.

"Hey Will," she answered, shoving the phone between her ear and shoulder as she began clearing the dishes from the table and dumping them into the sink.

"Good! No, he's healing up really nicely. Even Sarah was impressed," she laughed as the CMO cleanly shouldered her out of the way of the sink to do the dishes himself. "No, no, it's a good time. We just finished eating and were just clearing things off the... Yeah. Y-...What?"

Mikaela slowly turned her head to meet Ratchet's eyes, her own widening marginally. Ratchet paused in dumping the chemically scented lemon dish soap into the sink, raising his eyebrows at her in question when she held a finger out to him, indicating to wait.

"Will? Sorry, I don't mean to cut you off - Can I put you on speaker? Ratchet is right here and needs to hear this, too."

After an affirmative from the colonel, she pressed a button on her phone and set it on the counter between her and the CMO. "Okay, Will. Go ahead."

"Hey doc," Will greeted.

"Good afternoon, William. You have pertinent news?"

"Yeah. I received another message this afternoon from my contact inside of Cemetery Wind," Will informed, sounding haggard even over the phone. "It was news about Optimus."

Out of the corner of her eye Mikaela saw Ratchet tense briefly, and Will continued. "After the run-in he had with Cemetery Wind last week, he was able to escape despite his wounds and has since avoided detection," he sighed. "They believe they've found him. Someone called in this morning with a description that matches the form Optimus used to flee Mexico City - they think he's in Texas, hiding out on a farm on the outskirts of a town called Paris."

"Is your contact certain of this?" Ratchet asked, his voice calm and even.

"He's reliable," Will assured. "I haven't heard anything from him since he let me know, but... They're going after him."

Mikaela shot Ratchet an alarmed look and his eyes flitted to hers briefly in acknowledgement. "Do they believe he is alone?" the CMO asked carefully.

"Yeah, that's what they think," Will said. "Whoever called it in didn't mention any other suspicious activity."

"Has there been news of any of the others?" Ratchet asked, and Mikaela could pick up on his trepidation, despite his obvious attempt to stifle it.

"They hunted down the last of the Wreckers. Caught Leadfoot in Connecticut," Will said after a brief pause. "They destroyed him. I'm sorry."

Ratchet's brow furrowed and he closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh through his nose and rubbing his forehead with long fingers. "And Bumblebee? Sideswipe? Mirage?"

"Nothing of Bumblebee and Mirage since a couple of months ago, but they've been actively hunting Sideswipe since last week when they picked up his signal, around the time you had the encounter with them."

Ratchet swore under his breath, tugging a hand through his hair in frustration. "Do they know his whereabouts?"

"No, apparently he is constantly moving," Will responded and Ratchet snorted in agreement. "Last they picked up he was still in Cali, but he's managed to evade them so far."

"Sneaky slagger," Ratchet said, and it was hard to miss the fondness behind the words.

"Does anybody have any idea why the hell this is going on?" Mikaela asked suddenly, sounding frustrated. "I don't understand why NEST was disbanded if the government was just going to create another organization to hunt down Decepticons?"

"I dunno, Mikaela. All I know is that NEST was wiped from every branch of the government within about a week and then suddenly these guys pop up... Maybe they wanted people that weren't... attached to the Autobots. Maybe their plan was to hunt them down, along with the Decepticons, all along."

"But _why_?" Mikaela breathed, feeling like a petulant child who was denied an answer as to why the sky was blue. "Obviously I get the Decepticons... but why the _Autobots_?"

"From what I gather, the head of Cemetery Wind is formerly CIA, and he's a paranoid, diehard anti-Alien crackpot," came the response. "There's got to be more to it than that, I think, but my buddy doesn't exactly have access to all the details..."

"The CIA," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "That may explain the advanced level of technology they are using. Or perhaps Lockdown is supplying the organization with the tools and weapons they need to hunt us down."

"Most of their gear seems to come from that a company called KSI," Will responded. "_Kinetic Solutions Incorporated_. They're a technological engineering company based out of Illinois. Supposedly they lead the world market in robotics design. They also produce a lot of weaponry and equipment for the Department of Defense."

"Never heard of them," Mikaela scoffed. "Robotics design? Is that why they're connected with Cemetery Wind?"

"Who knows," the colonel sighed. "But my buddy says the kind of research they're doing there is equivalent to that creepy Frankenstein-type shit you see sometimes in horror movies."

Mikaela and Ratchet exchanged alarmed looks. "How do you mean?" Ratchet prompted.

"They took the remains of your frame to the KSI headquarters facility in Chicago," Will said hesitantly. "Things are a little fuzzy here, but my contact says that they haul the... bodies of Cybertronians back there to be melted and used for... other things."

Ratchet paled slightly. "_Do they_, now?" And though it was said steadily and quietly, it had such a dangerous undertone that even Mikaela had to resist the urge to flinch away.

The mechanic felt herself green a little in response to this new information. She may be an organic, but she had spent nearly half of her life around Cybertronians and over the years, especially since she had began working with Ratchet in Autobot medical, she had stopped seeing them as giant metal robots and started seeing them simply as living things. Their metal was not merely metal. It was their _body_, and the idea of a technology company melting it down for parts made Mikaela feel sick to her stomach.

Will, who had fallen silently momentarily while allowing them to process this bit of information, finally responded with "It's pretty fucked up shit."

Mikaela could only nod to herself in agreement.

"William, find out as much about this KSI that you can - find out who they are partnered with, and under what circumstances if you are able," Ratchet said, a steely note to his voice. "I would like to know what connections they have to the CIA, and possibly to Lockdown."

"Will do, doc," Will said, and Mikaela thought she could detect a hint of long-lost purpose to his tone. "I will do some digging and get back to you."

"Thank you. Keep me updated on Optimus also, if you will."

"Yes, I will. I'll have some news for you soon."

"I have no doubt," Ratchet said with finality. "Ratchet out."

Mikaela met Ratchet's eyes as the call ended, seeing the fierce resolve there, and somehow knew that things were about to get very interesting.


	6. Roll to Me

**Author's Note:** My sincerest apologies for the amount of time it took me to post this chapter. I have no intention of abandoning this ficlet - life just got in the way. Over the past few weeks, I've seen two of my immediate family members admitted to two separate hospital ICU's about two hours away from each other. Most of my time outside of work has been spent travelling back and forth between the two, spending a lot of time sleeping in uncomfortable chairs (and admittedly, once or twice on the floor) leaving little time for anything else. Especially trivial things such as sleep because - let's face it, who needs to sleep?

I lost one this week. It was unexpected, she was young and it's been difficult. The funeral is tomorrow and I can only hope that the other pulls through and everything will get better from here.

Thanks for your patience.

* * *

**Chapter 6****:** Roll to Me

* * *

Only a few hours had passed before Mikaela's phone rang again. She blinked at Will's number on the caller ID before activating the call, automatically switching it on speaker phone and setting it on the coffee table in the living room, where she and Ratchet had been lounging about on the couch.

"Will?"

"Hey," Will greeted, sounding breathless. "Sorry to call back so soon – I have an update for you."

Will had told them in a rushed tone that the Cemetery Wind team that had attacked the farm had done so with excessive force and had blown the whole thing sky high and leveled it to the ground. The only thing that had betrayed Ratchet's poker-faced calmness was his the fact that his grip on the edge of the table had become white-knuckled at that point and Mikaela winced. It was her that voiced the question that had hung, unspoken in the air between them all.

"And Optimus?"

Will had told them that he had escaped the farm, apparently with three humans in tow, and was on the move again. Thus far he had managed to evade enemy scanners and currently Cemetery Wind had little to no lead on his location. Ratchet visibly relaxed at this news. But Will's call also came with a warning:

"Cemetery Wind is now hunting any remaining humans that have connections to the Autobots," Will spat. "Anyone who was previously known to have close contact with them should be prepared to be monitored intensely until this whole thing blows over, starting within the next few days."

It was Mikaela's turn to pale at that news and she and Ratchet exchanged alarmed glances.

"Do you think they'd recognize Ratchet?" she asked.

"Hard to say, 'Kaela," Will sighed. "Who knows what kind of tabs the government was keeping on the Autobots, even when things were friendly. And with all of the folks that worked for NEST… Who knows, they may very well know what he looks like."

"But they won't be actively looking for him," Mikaela reasoned. "They think he's dead."

"Yeah, but best be careful, just in case."

The call ended on that tense note. Mikaela and Ratchet exchanged weary glances before agreeing to go to sleep early, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on them both. Neither of them slept very well that night.

The next morning saw them both sitting idly at the kitchen table again, Mikaela picking at her food as Ratchet encouraged her to eat.

"I can't concentrate," Mikaela mumbled, letting her head fall to the palm of her hand. "I can't get my mind off of what Will said last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I just... I dunno, I guess I got used to being in the thick of things there for a long time, and I made my peace with it. Then I kind of got pushed out and life went back to being semi-normal and I adjusted to that again. Now it's all being turned over for a third time and I feel like I'm going to have to re-adjust again. To relearn."

"Relearn what?"

"How to cope," Mikaela sighed. "How to accept the fact that things are going to get worse before they get better - and even when they do get better they will never be the same... To give up the little bit of control I've established over my own life. Does this even make any sense?"

"It does," Ratchet nodded solemnly, peering at her from across the table. "I understand."

"It just took me so long to let go. To let go of Sam, to let go of all of the Autobots - you being the exception - and N.E.S.T., well... It just took me a long time to stop wanting to jump in and help every time I saw something go wrong on the T.V. when it involved you guys. Chicago was a prime example of that - I swear I was ready to just charge in there and help, but in the end - what could I have done?"

"I am glad you were not there," Ratchet said firmly, patting the back of Mikaela's hand as a hurt look briefly crossed her features. "It was too dangerous. For _any_ of us. So many lives were lost, Cybertronian and human alike - The only peace of mind that I managed to hold close was that you were safe here in California."

Mikaela offered him a small smile. "It was torture for me, sitting here in front of that stupid screen all day waiting to see whether or not all of you survived in the end..."

Ratchet frowned then, the corners of his lips drawing tight and turning down in a grimace as he undoubtedly recounted those they had lost that day.

"Can I ask you something?" Mikaela said, fidgeting suddenly.

"You may."

"What are you going to do?"

"Do?"

"Yeah, I mean... From now on. I know it's kind of a loaded question, but what are your plans?"

"Are we speaking in terms of the immediate future?"

"No. Well - yes? Just... from now on, you know...?"

"There are many things I could do from now, onwards."

"Are you avoiding my question?"

"Perhaps."

Mikaela sighed in exasperation, letting her forehead drop to the table with a dull '_thunk_.' "I'm serious, Ratchet. I'm worried."

"Worried about what?"

"_Everything_. I see what's going on with this new organization, see all of these attacks and what Will said happened in Texas... I can't stop thinking about it! Do you think Optimus is okay on his own? Do you think he needs help?"

"Of _course_ he needs _help_," Ratchet snarled suddenly, his chair scraping noisily across the floor as he jumped to his feet and began pacing the small kitchen in such a way that Mikaela was reminded of a caged animal. "That Primus forsaken youngling has always had a penchant for throwing himself headlong into danger for no _slagging_ good reason. Pit-forsaken, slag-headed, _bolts for brains_..."

Ratchet trailed off, cursing, and Mikaela arched an eyebrow. The CMO sighed heavily and leaned against the counter, rubbing his forehead in frustration. Mikaela gave him a moment before she said;

"So. I'll ask one more time. _What are you going to do_?"

Ratchet's eyes met with Mikaela's and she saw warring emotions behind them - resolve, determination and a very Ratchet-esque stubbornness but also a touch of fear and apprehension, which was nothing like the CMO she knew. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean precisely what I said," he snipped, dropping bonelessly back into the chair. "I do not know what I will do."

Mikaela frowned. This was not the way she had hoped this conversation would go. But the more she thought about it, the more on par she was with Ratchet's line of thought… What could they do? It was one thing when he still had his Cybertronian form, but now they were simply two humans who knew a lot about Cybertronians and the war in general. Ironhide and Wheeljack were dead. Everyone _thought _Ratchet was dead (and if anyone bothered to ask Ratchet's opinion on the matter, he was as good as dead). Optimus was on the run. Who _knew _where Bumblebee and the others were?

Mikaela groaned, ticking off the names in her head for a moment before realization suddenly dawned on her. "What about Sideswipe?"

Ratchet sighed deeply through his nose, rubbing a hand tiredly over features drawn tight with obvious stress. "What about him."

"He's still out there," Mikaela said, more forcefully than she intended. "He's out there and he's close. Can't we help him? Maybe he could help _us_."

"Mikaela," Ratchet said slowly, deliberately. "As much as I would like to go and search for Sideswipe and offer him any protection I can give... I have put you in enough danger by coming here myself - not to mention how much more danger you would be in if you started some kind of... some kind of _Autobot sanctuary_."

Mikaela threw him a half-determined, half-angry look in response and said firmly: "My decision. Not yours."

Ratchet slammed his fist down hard on the table top, making everything rattle and Mikaela jump in surprise. "Slaggit, girl! Your penchant for throwing yourself headlong into danger without so much as a second thought is really beginning to infuriate me!"

"Oh yeah?! Well your goddamn indifference is really pissing me off!" Mikaela shouted back, anger bubbling to the surface and mingling with her desperation. "You can't just fucking sit here and _wait_, Ratchet! _What's gotten into you_?"

"What has gotten into me? Ha!" Ratchet was back on his feet again, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "What's gotten into me? Mikaela, I am in a human body –_ that_ is what has gotten into me!"

"So what?"

"'_So what_?'" Ratchet repeated, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I cannot even hope to hold my own against any one of the Decepticons in this form. I am fragile, I am frail, I am vulnerable. I am weak!"

Mikaela pushed her chair away from the table with more force than she meant to, barely containing a wince as the legs came dangerously close to splintering as they were raked across the tile. She marched angrily up to Ratchet, pushing herself forward with such force that they stood chest to chest and Ratchet was forced to retreat backward until he was backed against the back door. The mechanic jabbed him hard in the shoulder with her index finger.

"Humans are not _weak_," she hissed through clenched teeth. "We may be small, and young, and organic, and our lives may be gone in the blink of an eye compared to yours… and we may be all those things that make up what you guys consider a _lesser _species, but how many fucking _humans_ have held their own against the Decepticons? How many_ humans _have laid down their damn lives to help the Autobot cause? How many have stood with you, even though they didn't have to, to help ensure that your losses were minimal? _How many_, Ratchet?!"

The CMO deflated then, closing his eyes as the air left his lungs with a long exhale and his shoulders lost their rigidity. "That is not what I meant," he mumbled, defeated.

Mikaela frowned. "Then what the hell did you mean? Because if you don't think that humans are weak, why do you think you are just because you're in a human body?"

"It is not the same thing," Ratchet sighed. "I cannot explain it to you, as I can barely understand it myself. I am not what I was, Mikaela."

"Of course you aren't," she said, her gaze softening as she took a step back. "Not in body, anyway. But why should that mean that you can't hold your own still? I know you, Ratchet. You are_ better_ than this."

"And if I am not?"

"Then someone's gonna have to be," Mikaela said, sticking her chin out defiantly. "I am going to find Sideswipe. Whether you come with me or not… that's your decision."

With that, she strode from the kitchen, leaving a slack-jawed and irritated CMO in her wake. She went immediately to her closet, pulling out her pack that she always took with her when she went for long rides on her motorcycle. She whipped out her phone, mechanically dialing Will's number as she began shoving essentials into the bag.

It only rang once before he picked up. "Hello?"

"Will, it's me."

"Mikaela? You sound flustered. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied, clenching her teeth. "Look, I need some intel. Can you tell me Sideswipe's last known whereabouts? Or at least a rough estimation?"

"… Sure, I can probably get that for you. I'll have to give my contact a call. When do you need the info by?"

"Thanks, that means a lot. I need it now, actually. Or as soon as possible."

"Now? Mikaela, what's going on? I don't like where this is going."

"Yeah, well you aren't the only one," Mikaela huffed, tossing a glance back toward the kitchen. "I'm going to go and look for him, Will. I can't just sit by and wait for them to hunt him down. Not when I could be doing something about it."

There was a sigh and a brief rustle from the other side of the line and Mikaela prepared herself for another round of scolding.

"I understand," Will said simply, and whatever argument she was forming died on the mechanic's tongue.

"Y-You do?" she stammered.

"Yeah, 'Kaela. I get it, believe me. Went through that several times, myself. Been there, done that," he sighed. "You've held your own for years now, who am I to tell you not to go? I'd go out there with you if I could."

Mikaela grinned as she stuffed a couple of flashlights into the bag. "Thanks, Will. That means a lot. Ratchet wasn't nearly as supportive, believe me."

"Oh, I believe it," Will chuckled. "He's protective of you, Mikaela. Any idiot with eyes can see it."

Mikaela knew that already, of course. But hearing it said made her feel a little guilty at her earlier argument with Ratchet. At the same time, however, she was tired of sitting around and waiting for things to happen. She was not content to spend the rest of this… _war_… watching its events unfold on the television from the safety of her living room. Even before the Autobots had come into her life and involved her directly in the conflict, she was never one to sit by when something could be done. She was rash, bold, headstrong and sometimes a little too cocky. But that was her, and she wasn't content to change, either.

"Mikaela?" Will prompted from the line, shaking her out of her own thoughts for a moment.

"Yeah, sorry," she sighed, stuffing a change of clothes and some basic essentials into the bag. "Thanks for your help, Will. I know we've said it before, but it means a lot."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get with my contact and get right back with you. I'll try to call you back within the next fifteen minutes. If you don't hear from me, well… just keep waiting."

Mikaela laughed. "Okay, take care. Thanks again. Bye!"

The line disconnected and she slipped the phone back into her pocket with a sigh. She really wished she had Ratchet's support on this because it would make things a lot less complicated. She pulled on her boots and zipped up her jacket, flipping the pack over her back with a frustrated growl and storming out of her bedroom, through the living room and out onto the front porch without sparing so much as a glance over her shoulder at the kitchen. She figured Ratchet could survive on his own for a few days, or for however long it took her to get out there and get back. She had enough cash in her checking account to last at least a few weeks, and probably triple that in her savings account thanks to the payout from Mission City, Egypt and the weeks following when she had spent most of her time working at Diego Garcia.

She ran her fingers through her hair absently as she sat on the edge of the porch and stretched her legs out, waiting impatiently for the phone to ring. When it did, she had it picked up and pushed to her face within three seconds flat.

"Will?"

"Yeah," came the Colonel's voice from the other end of the line. "Got your intel, Mikaela. Last they can tell, he's up near Stockton."

"Stockton…" she repeated, absently kicking at the little pebbles on the pavement of her sidewalk. "That's not far from here. Couple hours at best."

"Right. Well, that was a few days ago," Will sighed. "They think he's still in the area but they are leaving it be for now in favor of trailing Optimus, wherever the hell he is. Most of the resources and agents are being used for that little… venture."

"Hmm, well hopefully he gives them a goddamn run for their money."

"I'm sure he will. Anyway, contact says that there's a bunch of old scrap yards on the northeastern end of town and that's where he likely will be. If he's even still in town, that is."

"Can't do anything but try," Mikaela said. "Thanks for the help again, Will. I'll let you know if anything big comes up."

"Please do," Will responded. "And Mikaela?"

"Yeah?"

"Be fucking careful."

"You got it."

The line disconnected and Mikaela heaved herself up from the porch, only to be stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. She twisted around in surprise to find Ratchet staring at her evenly, standing on the porch behind her in his black pants and boots and jacket. She couldn't help the small well of hope that bubbled up inside of her.

"Well?" she prompted when he didn't say anything.

"I do not like this," Ratchet said, eyes narrowing slightly. "I think it is a slagging _bad idea_ if I have ever seen one, and believe me, I_ have_. I think it is headstrong and dangerous and utterly reckless to just charge in there without a serious plan beforehand."

Mikaela bristled. "Well, if that's all you've come out here to say, then-"

Ratchet held a hand up, effectively halting her rebuttal in its tracks. "That being said, I cannot and will not stand idly by any longer and watch my kind being hunted to extinction one by one by this slagging organization. Not when there is something – _anything _– that can be done to stop it. I am coming with you."

Mikaela resisted the urge to jump up and down like a child and merely offered Ratchet a genuine grin in return, briefly tugging on his jacket to pull him behind her off the porch and across the lawn to where her bike sat in the driveway.

Ratchet balked, eyeing the two-wheeled vehicle with unconcealed distaste. "Is that what we're going on?"

"It's what I've got," Mikaela said, tossing him an extra helmet from the garage and swinging her leg gracefully over the bike to sit on the seat. Ratchet stayed firmly where he was.

"Gonna go via I-5," Mikaela said absently, mapping the route in her head. "Take it all the way northwest until it merges with 580 and follow it north to Stockton. Will said that's where they have tracked Sideswipe to, on the northeastern end of town. In an area called Morada, near some old junkyards."

Ratchet grunted absently, nimble fingers working at the visor of his helmet before slipping it over his head. "Try not break any laws, won't you?"

"Yeah, that's unlikely," Mikaela said smugly. "It's a two hour drive if you go by the speed limit. I'd like to get there in 75 minutes maximum."

"Do be careful," he sighed, slipping a leg over to straddle the bike behind the mechanic.

"Pfff," Mikaela laughed. "The word isn't in my vocabulary."

The bike roared out onto the road and Mikaela couldn't stifle a grin under her helmet as Ratchet's long fingers dug painfully into her hips. He had never been particularly fond of motorcycles, especially where Mikaela was concerned. His words from years ago floated back to her, making her grin subconsciously.

'_Dangerous, pointless, slagging piles of scrap. Just get a normal car like the rest of the younglings, girl. Or must I be forced to choose between transporting you to school myself or putting you back together when you wreck that thing on the roads?'_

Mikaela laughed at the memory and gunned the bike's throttle harder with a wicked grin, gratified when the CMO's muffled oath reached her ears even through their helmets as he scrambled to hold on even tighter.

An hour and a half and two bruised hips later, they were heading into the southern outskirts of Stockton and Mikaela let off the throttle a little. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over by a police officer at this moment. Ratchet seemed to relax a little at the change in speed and slackened his grip slightly, though he had stuck to Mikaela like a barnacle for more or less the entirety of the ride.

Following their designated route, it didn't take them more than fifteen minutes to navigate their way through the winding roads of Stockton and out towards the northeastern outskirts of the city, where multiple junkyards peppered both sides of a deserted highway. Mikaela pulled in and parked the bike in the first one, noting the deserted look about the place, and dismounted to stretch. Ratchet climbed stiffly from the seat after her, staggering on his own two legs for a moment before righting himself with a scowl and dropping the helmet on the back of the bike as he tossed a somewhat venomous look in Mikaela's direction.

Mikaela merely shrugged. "Where do we start? Should we split up?"

Ratchet appeared to think about this for a moment. "We need to do this methodically if we are to accomplish the search in a reasonable amount of time," he said, glancing around. "I do believe we should split up, but not to the point where you cannot call for me if you should encounter trouble. We should stick to one scrap yard at a time."

Mikaela nodded, accepting this plan. "It's not as though we won't be able to recognize him. I mean, he's always been kinda gaudy. How hard can it be, right?"

Ratchet merely tilted an eyebrow at her and shook his head. "Sideswipe is an adept spy," he said. "He may not be very good at sneaking off with how clumsy he is, but he has spent half the war relying on his ability to stay hidden. A trick he no doubt picked up from Mirage."

"Alright," Mikaela sighed, dusting imaginary dust off of her jeans. "You take the north end, I'll start at the south and we'll meet in the middle. Sound good?"

"Acceptable," Ratchet nodded. "Give me your word that you will call for my attention if you encounter anything out of place at all."

Mikaela waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. You too, huh? I mean, don't know what I can do, but you know…"

Ratchet grunted unintelligibly in response and they split up. They spent most of the day in this manner, combing every inch of every scrap yard that flanked the highway, one at a time. Hours passed and the sun had begun to dip low in the sky when they reached their last one.

Tired, sore and now irritable as well, Mikaela wiped the sweat off her forehead with a frown. "Last one," she said. "Let's make it quick, we're losing light and I don't really feel like driving home in the dark."

Ratchet nodded absently, patting the dust from the legs of his pants. They split up again, Mikaela taking the southern end as per usual. She found that she wasn't as focused as she should have been, not searching as thoroughly as she would have liked, and so when she tripped over a hubcap of an old Ford and nearly fell right onto the hood of a silver Chevy Centennial Corvette, it came as a shock.

She stumbled back in surprise, taking a moment to give the vehicle a once-over to make sure it matched the description of the one they had been searching for. It did, and she grinned madly.

"Sideswipe?" she tried. No response came and she moved closer, tapping lightly on the hood of the convertible. Still nothing. She cupped her hands to her face and shouted, "Hey! I think I found him, over here in the back corner!"

Mikaela cocked a hip, regarding the sports car with a scowl and walking around the edge, fingers tracing the Autobot symbol on the paneling before grinning and kicking the tire with her boot.

The mechanic stepped back as the air current suddenly shifted and she heard the tell-tale hum of systems powering up. Expecting a somewhat warm welcome, she moved to stand so that she would be close enough to get a good look at him and any damage he may have sustained once he transformed, but the Corvette surprised her when he surged out of alt. mode with a battle cry, systems all powering on at once as he swung his swords in front of him blindly.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Mikaela shouted, tripping over her own two feet and landing hard in the dirt as she stumbled back in alarm at the sudden, violent transformation. The mechanic scrambled backwards on her bottom with a startled cry, her eyes wide as saucers as Sideswipe transformed fully, optics locked on her, only to flip out his weapons systems, power up his cannon and take aim directly where she lay in the dirt.

'_Well, shit.'_


	7. Lessons in Humanity

**Author's Note: **Here we are, folks. Didn't want to leave you with that cliff hanger for too long! I belted out quite a bit of chapter eight today, so hopefully that will be coming next weekend. On that note, I'd like to thank those of you who showed your support in regards to the note in the last chapter. I appreciate the heck out of ya. Much love and thanks!

**Chapter 7:** Lessons in Humanity

* * *

_I find the map and draw a straight line  
Over rivers, farms, and state lines  
The distance from 'A' to where you'd be  
It's only finger-lengths that I see  
I touch the place where I'd find your face  
My fingers in creases of distant dark places_

* * *

_Mikaela's eyes widened as Sideswipe transformed fully, optics locked on her, only to flip out his weapons systems, power up his cannon and take aim directly where she lay in the dirt._

'_Well, shit.'_

The frontliner roared in his rage, the hum of his battle systems reminding a pinned Mikaela that there was no chance she would survive a full on attack from his weapons systems. He was stalled, however, when a sizable rock that was hurled through the darkness impacted the side of his helm with a resounding '_clang!_'

Sideswipe staggered momentarily, shaking his helm, and a human voice laced with distinctive ferocity floated across the darkness from mere meters away and Mikaela was able to muster the willpower to look away from the attacking Autobot over to the CMO, who was advancing on them both looking positively _furious__._

"You slagging half-clocked, pit-forsaken, bit-brained son of a glitch! _Stand down_!"

Sideswipe paused for a moment, his weapons powering down a notch and his optics dimming in sheer surprise. Optics narrowed in confusion as his mental relays struggled to place _that voice_.

"_Lower your fragging weapon_!"

Sideswipe cocked his head at the small, yet formidable and somehow _familiar_ human standing in front of him, hip cocked, hands on both hipbones, deep scowl on his features as he spat and swore at Sideswipe as though he'd been doing that very thing for centuries…

"Primus help me, Sideswipe," Ratchet growled, picking up another large rock and moving to stand between the Autobot warrior and the mechanic. "I will dismantle you one frelling piece at a time and reformat you into a slagging _toaster_ if you do not _disengage now_."

Sideswipe reeled back as though struck, his battle systems dropping offline immediately as his optics flared in recognition.

"_Hatchet_?"

Ratchet scoffed. "Who else?"

Mikaela only had time to haul herself stiffly out of the dirt and dust herself off as the tell-tale click and whirr of a transformation reached her ears as Sideswipe shifted back into alt. mode. She frowned, confused until she felt the tingle of electricity as Sideswipe's sensor relays detached and activated, gathering in a pool of light that began to take shape at his peds.

She blinked. '_His holo_,' she thought dimly. She'd only seen it a couple of times before, usually when he was training the NEST soldiers, and that had been long ago. He hadn't changed its appearance however: Towering at over six feet of lean muscle and power, he favored a red top and black jacket and pants, combat boots and a pair of sunglasses that were almost always perched atop a head full of messy, mid-length black and red hair. Constantly plastered with a cocky smirk, his face was young, and the angle of his jaw and the boastful way he walked about reminded her of some of the jocks she dated in high school.

Said holo rushed past her in a blur of black and red and all but threw itself at Ratchet, staggering the CMO as the extra weight threatened to topple them both. Ratchet barely bit back a cry of surprise, stumbling backward and clutching at the sizeable bundle of Sideswipe holo that was suddenly in his arms.

"You were offlined," Sideswipe ground out in a tight voice, clinging to Ratchet forcefully. "You were offlined. Cybertron_ below, _you were_ offlined._"

Ratchet and Mikaela exchanged somewhat alarmed glances and the mechanic could have sworn she saw the lower lid of Ratchet's right eye twitch several times in rapid succession as he took in the situation.

The CMO cleared his throat and patted the frontliner on the back a couple of times.

Mikaela shifted from foot to foot.

An awkward silence came and went.

Sideswiped stiffened suddenly, leaping back as though he had only just remembered himself. He crossed his arms over a broad chest and looked around him, determined not to meet the eyes of the two humans present. Ratchet cleared his throat again.

"I trust you got that out of your system," he stated flatly, mirroring Sideswipe's action by crossing his arms over his chest and staring determinedly at the dirt. Shoes were suddenly very _interesting_ things, Mikaela thought with a grin.

Sideswipe opened his mouth for a moment as though to speak, only managing silence before audibly snapping it closed again. The mechanic threw her arms in the air in frustration.

"Oh, you two!" she sighed. "Get over yourselves. You're both alive. _Yay_! Now can we get on with it?"

Ratchet threw her a rather nasty look and she shrugged. Sideswipe's head snapped up suddenly, eyes meeting Ratchet's in a good impression of a human death glare.

"You hit me with a rock," he deadpanned.

Ratchet raised an eyebrow. "You were about to_ kill_ my assistant."

Sideswipe turned then, tossing Mikaela an apologetic glance. "Sorry, girly. Didn't know that was you… Humans and I, uh – Well, let's just say these days we aren't so friendly."

"No big deal," Mikaela said, brushing it off. "I get it."

Ratchet smacked the frontliner upside the head for good measure, earning a hiss from the Autobot warrior.

"What?" Sideswipe hissed. "Are you going to tell me that you're on good terms with the squishies?"

"Only a select few," Ratchet growled, his gaze darkening as he gestured to Mikaela. "One of whom you nearly blasted to oblivion less than ten minutes ago."

"Always knew she'd be the good kind of trouble," Sideswipe grinned, winking at the mechanic slyly. "So, what's the deal?"

"That," Ratchet sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is a _very_ long story, Sideswipe. A very long, very… _interesting_ story."

"I got time," the frontliner shrugged. "Ain't been doing nothing but trying to keep that nasty band of squishies off my tailpipe."

"Indeed. And a rather good job of it, too, if Will's information is anything to go by."

"You bet your aft," Sideswipe grinned, puffing out his chest. "Nobody's gettin' the jump on me."

Silence fell again, and suddenly Mikaela had the distinct impression that Ratchet was cleverly avoiding telling Sideswipe what had happened. She surmised that it was likely because he didn't want to tell the frontliner the problematic event of him being permanently confined to a human body and her heart ached for him for a moment, but Sideswipe was not one to be distracted so easily.

"So?" he prompted. "Gonna tell me what's going on, or are we just gonna stand here and blink at each other all damn night?"

A defeated sigh escaped Ratchet, and Mikaela didn't miss the concern that flitted across Sideswipe's features at the sound.

"Well," Ratchet said, moving to lean against one of the old scrap cars in the junk yard. "Make yourself comfortable. This is going to take a while."

The CMO started off slow, neglecting to go into detail on many points, and Mikaela could tell that Ratchet didn't much care for telling this story any more than he did the first time around. When he reached the topic of how he had been brought down at the docks by the little band of humans called Cemetery Wind and how his Cybertronian form had been offlined by Lockdown, the mechanic couldn't help but notice the way Sideswipe's jaw clenched in fury, nor could she miss the way he balled his shaking hands into fists at his side, his holo stuffing them into his pockets to hide his reaction.

"What the slag were you doing, anyway?" Sideswipe had asked. "I thought you were well hidden somewhere out there in the fragging wilderness?"

Mikaela and Ratchet exchanged looks briefly, and Ratchet pointedly looked away.

The mechanic cleared her throat. "He was coming to meet you," she said. "Your distress signal activated, and he tore off after you."

Silence, thick and palpable. A soft keen from Sideswipe's alt. form.

"You shouldn't have done that, Doc," Sideswipe's holo said in a strangely tight voice. "I mean, I had hoped someone was nearby – maybe Hound or hell, even Drift… but I never meant to draw you into harm's way. Should have just stayed where you were."

Ratchet's eyes met with those of Sideswipe's holoform and held them fiercely for a moment, summing up all of his outraged denials and apologies in a single look.

Mikaela coughed, feeling awkward, and they moved forward. They spoke of Ratchet's spark transfer, and Sideswipe hadn't bothered to hide his amazement, sheer admiration sparkling in his eyes as he mutely nodded when Ratchet continued.

In all actuality, regaling Sideswipe with the tale of Ratchet's new humanity didn't take nearly as long as Mikaela thought. Or… it wouldn't have, at least, if the frontliner would just stop interrupting to ask ridiculous questions.

"You did what!?"

"But how?"

"But _why_?"

The conversation ended in:

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa_! Wait a minute," Sideswipe shouted. "Let me get this straight. You're _stuck_ in this squishy, organic human shell? Like… _forever_?!"

Silence greeted Sideswipe's question, but it said all he needed to know.

"But, Hatchet!" Sideswipe whined. "That's just… just… I don't even – You can't – _Blasphemy_."

"Shut it, Sideswipe!" Ratchet snapped, effectively stopping the tirade before it even truly began.

The Autobot warrior held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Sorry! But Pit, Ratchet… What in Primus' name are you going to do?"

"I do not know," Ratchet growled. "Currently I have no formulated plans."

"Oookay. Well… what about right this minute? What's the plan?" Sideswipe asked, turning to address Mikaela also.

"Dunno," Mikaela shrugged. "There wasn't really much of a plan to begin with, other than 'go find Sideswipe,' so… Say we go back to my house."

"So that Cemetery Wind can search it and find out that you are housing Autobots?" Ratchet snipped. "I thought you mentioned that William said they are now conducting sweeps of the properties of humans who were known associates of our kind in any degree."

"Well, they are. But-"

"No."

"Ratchet-"

"_No_."

"But we can –"

"_Pit below_, girl! What did I just say?!"

"Well then what do _you_ suggest, Mr. I-Know-Everything-All-The-Time?!" Mikaela snapped.

"Not getting ourselves _caught, maimed and killed_ for starters," Ratchet returned dryly.

"That's just so fucking helpful, Ratchet."

"Why, yes. Yes it is."

"Okay! That's enough of that," Sideswipe interjected, waving his arms like a referee. "As much as I'd like to see the two of you continue your, uh, battle of _wits_… The sooner I can get out of this damn junkyard, the better."

"What's the big deal? Don't you think it would be safe for a few days, Ratchet?" Mikaela implored, very much disliking the idea of leaving her home behind again. "Just to rest and collect ourselves?"

"Mikaela, you do not seem to comprehend how easy it will be for them to ferret Sideswipe out and capture or kill us all."

"Sides has avoided them so far, hasn't he?" Mikaela asked.

"Only by sheer luck-"

"_Hey_!" Sideswipe interjected testily.

"Is that not the truth? Aside from what you may have picked up from Mirage before he was captured and killed by the very group hunting _you_, have you had any real training in stealth?"

It was harsh and a bit underhanded, but it obviously had the desired effect because Sideswipe stared, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

"No. I thought not," Ratchet said. "I fear the only reason they were unable to catch up with you is because the whole lot of them are too preoccupied with_ Optimus_. You are lucky._ I_ am even more so."

The reality of the statement hit home and an uneasiness floated between them for a moment before Ratchet took a deep breath and continued:

"The point here is that they are using technology far beyond what I knew most humans possessed. They are able to track us using our heat signatures, even when they are being masked and that is a technology I thought only NEST was privy to. Clearly I was wrong."

"Lockdown, do you think?" Sideswipe asked.

"No, I do not believe Lockdown was responsible for supplying that particular trick," Ratchet sighed. "That, I believe, came from the company Cemetery Wind seems to be working with. _KSI_."

"What makes you think that?" the frontliner asked, frowning in puzzlement.

"The drones they used at the docks," Ratchet said tightly. "They were able to find me with ease – it took them less than two minutes to pinpoint my location aboard the ferry and blow it sky high. The drones were_ not_ of Cybertronian make."

"That's slagged up," Sideswipe mumbled. "Human technology designed to hunt Cybertronians…"

Mikaela had a flash back of a feverish, bleeding, barely-standing Ratchet on her doorstep and was forced to shake her head roughly to clear the image. "Okay," she conceded. "You're right. I'm being reckless. I'll go with what you choose."

Ratchet nodded to her in thanks and acknowledgement, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a small smile.

"Great. So what are you thinking?" Sideswipe asked, crossing his arms over his again chest and leaning back against the side of an old Ford pickup.

"Our primary initiative should be to find cover somewhere safe," Ratchet said. "Somewhere we can regroup and supply and _plan_. It must be somewhere concealed and relatively remote – far enough from cities and towns and hubs of activity where we are more likely to be recognized."

"Yeah, thanks to all those slagging propaganda posters all over the place I can't even drive a stretch of highway without earning suspicious glances from the locals," Sideswipe griped. "'_REPORT SUSPICIOUS ALIEN ACTIVITY'_. Ha! Give me a _break_."

"Precisely," Ratchet sighed. "We must get away from prying eyes. Somewhere not easily accessible."

Mikaela shrugged helplessly. "I'm open to suggestions."

The three of them fell silent for a few moments, deep in thought. Mikaela sat on the hood of an old Honda while Sideswipe's holo leaned lazily against the door of the old truck and Ratchet paced, muttering.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Mikaela said, jumping up suddenly and snapping her fingers. "What about Sam's parents' cabin?"

Ratchet tossed her a questioning look and she grinned. "They have a little cabin that they bought right after he went to college, up in Tahoe National Forest halfway between Yuba and the Nevada border. It's only accessible by a little dirt road, and quite a drive up the side of the mountain. I've only been there a couple times, but I'm pretty sure I could remember how to get there."

"What about the humans?" Sideswipe asked. "Won't they be there?"

"Sam's parents? No," Mikaela said. "They rarely stay up there – usually only for a couple weeks at the beginning of the summer."

"That may be the place," Ratchet mumbled. "If it is as remote as you say… And yet it is still within California. How long do you suppose it will take to get there?"

"From Tranquility it takes about five hours," Mikaela winced. "But that's going the typical speed limit, so…"

The mechanic could tell Ratchet was resisting the urge to face-palm and cleared her throat pointedly. "We're in a hurry, yeah?"

"Yes, and would it not be ironic if we died a horrible, painful death in a flaming motorcycle accident?"

Mikaela rolled her eyes. "God, you're so dramatic. Crotchety old man."

Sideswipe barked a laugh, pushing himself up from the truck. "I've been calling him that for years, woman. How is it that _you_ get away with it?"

"Human bodies sustain considerably less force than slagging _Cybertronian armor_," Ratchet hissed and Mikaela winced.

"So?" the mechanic interrupted, rocking restlessly on her feet. "Is it decided, then?"

"I suppose. The cabin it is." Ratchet said.

"How are all three of us gonna get there?" Mikaela asked. "All I have is the bike, Ratchet. As much as I love it, I'm not sure how well it would do on that bumpy dirt road… Especially with both of us on it."

Ratchet paled marginally.

"I could just subspace the bike and we could all go together," Sideswipe suggested with a shrug.

The CMO looked suspiciously grateful at the suggestion and immediately agreed with a somewhat enthusiastic nod.

"I think that's the first time he's ever agreed with me," Sideswipe mumbled, mock-secretively to Mikaela.

"It's just because he doesn't want to die on my motorcycle," Mikaela laughed, sticking her tongue out at Ratchet when he tossed a half-hearted glare her way.

"That is precisely the reason," Ratchet said.

"What? You trust his driving more than mine?" Mikaela hissed, offended.

"You misunderstand me," Ratchet said flippantly. "I trust neither of you. Sideswipe merely has _seatbelts_ – something which your vehicle distinctly _lacks_."

Mikaela rolled her eyes, but conceded. "Fine, we'll all go together. But Sideswipe, don't you think you should go with a different alt. mode? Won't they be looking for this one?"

"Girl's got a point," Sideswipe sighed. "Guess it's time for me to pick a new skin. Hopefully something shiny."

"Why is it always 'shiny' with you?" Ratchet scoffed. "You and your slagging brother."

"Hey! Says the one who rolls about in neon green… ish… yellow, sorta… Whatever the slag that color is! At least I'm not a slagging _rave club reject_," Sideswipe shot back and Mikaela nearly choked on her own saliva trying not to laugh.

Ratchet snarled, landing a well-aimed kick on the frontliner's leg and buckling his knee, sending him halfway to the dirt with a curse.

"Boys," Mikaela admonished. "Behave, or I'll put you both in time out."

"Slagger started it," Sideswipe muttered, climbing back to his feet. "So what'll it be? For the new design, I mean. I picked up a few schematics over the last few months while I was out on the roads.

"What do you have?" Mikaela asked, sitting forward eagerly.

Sideswipe mumbled to himself for a moment, counting off in his head before saying "Lexus LFA, Bugatti Veyron Vitesse…"

Mikaela shook her head. "The Lexus is too rare, will attract too much attention… The Bugatti, too round. Not good for your armor type."

"Pagani Zonda…" Sideswipe continued.

"Too long. Also too flashy – I know you like flashy, but we're trying to avoid too much attention."

"Porsche Spyder?" Sideswipe said.

Mikaela considered this for a moment. "The 918? That may work… Angular enough to fit your armor structure without being too sharp. Flashy, but not super rare like the Lexus… Good stats. I'd say go with that one."

"Porsche it is," Sideswipe said with a nod. "Give me a second."

He stepped back, his holo disappearing almost instantly back into his stationary alt. form, which began to quiver almost imperceptibly before the shape began to shift with a series of grinding and clicking whirrs. It took the frontliner less than thirty seconds in total to shift into his new form, this time choosing a dark gunmetal gray paint, and Mikaela whistled low.

"Nice," she said, walking a slow lap around the car to admire it. Sideswipe's chuckle sounded from the speakers and Ratchet rolled his eyes.

"Younglings and their flashy vehicles," he 'tsk-ed.' "Come, we need to get going."

"Can we at least go home and pick up some supplies?" Mikaela asked hopefully. "I didn't bring enough to last more than a day or two, and _you_ didn't bring anything at all, Ratchet."

Ratchet exhaled heavily, considering this for a moment. "I think we can manage a short trip back to grab some necessities," he conceded. "But we have got to be in and out within an hour or less."

"You got it boss," Mikaela said, throwing him a thumbs up.

Mikaela pulled the phone from her pocket, thinking to check the time before getting in the car, surprised when the screen indicated that she had missed no less than seven calls, all of which were from Will's cell number.

"Hang on a minute, guys. I need to make a phone call," she said distractedly, punching in the unlock key on the front screen and stepping away from Sideswipe's idling alt mode. Cursing her decision to put the thing on silent as they had searched the scrap yards, she hastily tapped Will's number with her thumb, shooting Ratchet an anxious look as he approached.

After a few rings the other side of the line activated and a strange sort of static filtered through, making Mikaela frown and pull the phone away from her ear to glance at the screen to confirm the call was still active. It was.

"Hello?" she tried.

"Mikaela! Thank god," Will's voice burst through the static on the line, his breathing harsh. "Where are you?"

"Will? U-uh, I'm… I'm at one of the scrap yards. We were just leaving to go home," Mikaela blinked, surprised.

"No!" Will all but shouted into the phone, making Mikaela jump and Ratchet look over at her in question. "Don't go home, Mikaela."

"What do you – _Why_?"

"Jesus, I don't know how to tell you this…" Will sighed. "Cemetery Wind was quicker with the sweep than we thought. They came through the ranch here earlier, not long after our last conversation this morning. They tore the place apart looking for any connection I may still have to the Autobots."

"Oh my god. Are you guys okay? What about Sarah?"

"Sarah was at work, thankfully, and Belle was at school. But Mikaela…"

"They didn't find anything, did they? Nothing to connect you, right?"

A sigh. "No, they didn't. Thank god. But –"

"Good. Those _bastards_," Mikaela spat, kicking at the gravel with her boots. "Who do they think they are? They can't just go around –"

"_Mikaela_!"

Mikaela's stomach dropped at the sharpness in the former NEST Colonel's tone. "_What_, Will?"

"They swept through Sam's house, and his parent's, and yours as well. I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through."

"Shit… Everyone's okay, right? I mean, Sam severed ties to the Autobots months ago. They know that, right?"

"Yeah, they know. The kid's fine."

"Why am I sensing a 'but' coming on?"

Another sigh from the other end of the line, followed by silence.

"Will," Mikaela prompted, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "If there's something I need to know, _tell me_."

"When I couldn't get ahold of you, I starting thinking the worst! I know you said you were heading out, but I also knew they were doing sweeps all over Tranquility and they'd be at your place possibly before I'd be able to get to you. I drove out this afternoon, but I had to keep my distance because they had the goddamn place surrounded. They blocked off your street and – They must have found something because – Jesus, your house… they set fire to it. I'm sorry, Mikaela. It's _gone_."


	8. In the Deep

**Author's Note: **Man, I tell you what. It's just been one thing right after another these past few weeks. Thank you all for being patient, again! I absolutely_ love_ your reviews, and firmly believe I have somehow attracted some of the most thorough, wonderful, encouraging members of the community. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I also apologize in advance if this chapter is a bit jumbled – I haven't done a whole lot of rereading because I'm half asleep, but I wanted to post it for you before I sign off for the night! Feel free to point out any errors or inconsistencies you may find. :)

**Chapter 8:** In the Deep

* * *

_Thought you had_  
_ All the answers_  
_ To rest your heart upon_  
_ But something happens_  
_ Don't see it coming, now_  
_ You can't stop yourself_

* * *

"_They must have found something because – Jesus, your house… they set fire to it. I'm sorry, Mikaela. It's gone."_

Mikaela watched in detached interest as rain, little droplets of sparkling clear water, ran down the driver's side window of Sideswipe's alt. mode. They sped quietly along the highway, now well into their journey up to the little cabin in Tahoe National Forest, and now that they were nearing the higher altitudes the weather had turned nasty rather quickly.

Ratchet leveled an appraising gaze at her from her right, though she could not meet his eyes. She lifted her head from the window a few inches before letting it fall back with a dull sound.

"Don't do that," Ratchet said gently, still looking over at her. Mikaela sighed, feeling completely drained. Her chest hurt, her eyes hurt, her head hurt – hell, her _whole body_ hurt. She closed her eyes as they passed below a street light that lit up the interior of the car and made all the rain that gathered on the windows sparkle like jewels.

'_A panic attack'_, Ratchet had told her in clipped tones as her phone had fallen from numb hands and she'd sunk toward the dirt of the scrap yard, attempting to contain the scream trying to rip itself from her chest. _'You are having a panic attack.'_

The CMO had caught her firmly as gravity pulled her down, hooking his arms underneath her shoulders and hefting her back up to sit on the bumper of the old Honda she'd been settled on earlier. Sideswipe's holo had come surging back out of his alt. form, his sensors strung together haphazardly and hastily as he came to stand, wide eyed, a little behind Ratchet.

"What is it?" the frontliner asked nervously.

Concern bled into the Ratchet's eyes as Mikaela struggled to form a sentence, the words sticking in her throat like broken glass. Her lungs tightened in her chest, eyes flashing with fear as she struggled to draw in a full breath and Ratchet's hands were on her shoulders in an instant as she began to hyperventilate.

"Mikaela, you need to breathe," he ordered, applying gentle forward pressure to her shoulders. "Now, bend forward toward your knees... There, exactly like that."

The CMO moved deftly to kneel in front of the mechanic. "Take a deep breath through your nasal passage," he instructed gently, a hand on her back to help her stay bent over her legs as she accomplished a shaky inhale. "There, now try to hold it for a moment... Then let it out slowly, the same way."

It seemed to work for a moment, but then the dam broke and everything came flooding out of Mikaela at once in harsh, hastily strung together sentences broken with harsh breaths that even Ratchet had trouble understanding. He frowned, turning back to Sideswipe's holo, who simply shrugged his shoulders helplessly, a stricken look on his face. Eventually, after hearing the words '_house, fire, fucking Cemetery Wind' _and _'gone_' multiple times, Ratchet was able to put together a relatively solid theory of what had happened. He clenched his teeth, setting his jaw to prevent his own explosion of disbelief and attempted to focus on the girl in front of him. Mikaela gasped raggedly, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes and spilling down her face as she dug her nails into Ratchet's forearms.

The CMO took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him, despite her panic. "Listen to me, youngling. I need you to stay calm. I need you not to panic, because it will make things worse. Do you understand?"

Mikaela's eyes rolled and Ratchet braced himself to catch her as she fainted, but the expected pitch forward never happened, and the brunette nodded slowly, snapping her mouth closed to prevent the ragged sobs that burst from her lungs of their own accord. A blue tinge began to creep into her lips and Ratchet shook her somewhat roughly by the shoulders. "Breathe, girl! You have to _breathe_!"

The mechanic's eyes snapped open and she instantly began coughing, the color returning to her lips within seconds. Ratchet sighed heavily.

"Here," he said, bracing her with his palm against the top of her sternum and using the other hand to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. "Take a breath on one, as deep as you can manage, and exhale on three - One, two, three," he said, brows furrowed as Mikaela struggled to comply with his request.

"Again," he said softly. "One, two, three... That's it."

The mechanic, with red eyes and gray skin, looked entirely worse for wear and Ratchet frowned, listening to the way her breathing became labored again concerned intensity. He met her eyes again, as tears continued to stream down her cheeks and gather at her chin, forming a steady drip onto the bumper below. She still gasped unsteadily for oxygen and, even though it was clear she was attempting to calm herself, her eyes were wide with panic and anguish. Ratchet shook his head slightly, at a loss for words for one of the only times in his long life.

Sighing, he took a few steps back and lowered himself to sit on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him. "Come here," he beckoned to Mikaela, nodding encouragingly as she complied without question and crawled down onto the dirt.

"Sit here," the CMO said, indicating the open space between his knees. Mikaela shifted, sitting roughly and offering a small sob as she settled, wincing at the way her voice sounded.

"Just hold still," Ratchet ordered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and placing the flat of his palm just below her collar bone. He applied gentle pressure, guiding her to lean back so that her back was flush against his chest, and she blinked in confusion.

"There," he said, hand still on her chest. "Now, focus. Breathe with me, mimic the rise and fall of my chest."

Mikaela complied and, although she struggled at first, gradually her breathing evened out, her cheeks and lips began to lose their unhealthy blue tinge, and she slumped against Ratchet, feeling the tendrils of embarrassment and exhaustion beginning to creep their way into her psych along with all of the other emotions warring there.

Ratchet held steady, a pillar of solid strength at her back as he continued to breathe in tandem with her. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"A little better," Mikaela rasped tiredly, her head falling forward to loll against her chest. "Exhausted."

"To be expected," Ratchet said gently. "Are you ready to stand?"

"Yeah."

Sideswipe shuffled forward on cue and held his hands out to Mikaela, pulling her up slowly when she wrapped both hands around his wrists. Ratchet stood quickly, placing a steadying hand on the small of her back as she regained her balance. When he was certain she wasn't about to lose another battle with gravity, he scooped up her nearly forgotten cell phone and bag and gently steered her back toward Sideswipe's new alt. mode and the frontliner's holo disappeared again with a sharp nod to the CMO.

The doors of the Porsche popped open and Ratchet helped Mikaela into the driver's seat, leaning over her to buckle her seatbelt after she all but collapsed into the chair. The mechanic offered him a half-hearted grin in response and he squeezed her shoulder before shutting the door and walking around to climb in the other side.

"Take us out of here, Sideswipe," he mumbled, buckling his own seatbelt. "And _do not_ do anything stupid."

The Autobot warrior stayed surprisingly silent, merely moving forward out of the junk yard and pulling out onto the road. Nearly two hours came and went with nary a word from either passenger other than occasional mumbled directions from Mikaela to Sideswipe, who had fallen uncharacteristically, but respectfully silent as well.

Ratchet's eyes shifted back and forth between the highway and his assistant, feeling slightly uncomfortable upon taking in her somewhat vacant stare out the window and the intense wash of _guilt_ that it made him feel. The CMO began to feel the completely foreign need to stimulate some type of conversation – anything to pull Mikaela away from her undoubtedly dark thoughts.

Ratchet turned to Mikaela, eyes searching. "Is there somewhere you would like to stop on the way up, Mikaela?" he tried.

Mikaela merely shook her head.

Frowning, Ratchet tried a more direct approach. "Are you not hungry? You have not eaten since late this morning."

Mikaela shook her head again, offering up a quiet "No, there isn't anywhere…" in response.

Ratchet frowned, touching the back of her hand gently to get her attention. Mikaela turned her head to look at him.

"Speak to me, youngling," Ratchet prompted. "Tell me what you are thinking."

"My house is gone," Mikaela mumbled dejectedly. "Everything I had is gone."

"It is not the end," Ratchet told her. "You can rebuild. I can help you to do that."

"I know… but," the mechanic sighed. "I just- … I worked _so _hard to build that life for myself, you know? And suddenly it's all gone. Everything is gone. My possessions, my house, my stability…"

"I am truly sorry, Mikaela," Ratchet sighed after a moment of silence. "I am afraid that I am responsible. If I had never involved you-"

"Ratchet," Mikaela said, a sudden edge to her voice. "I didn't mean it that way. Don't think for a second that I regret any of this. I would trade every possession I have in exchange for you – _gladly _– and don't you dare think otherwise."

Ratchet sighed, closing his eyes as though he was reining himself in. "I put you in danger."

"I don't want you to think that I regret it," the mechanic choked, tears springing to her eyes again. "Because I _don't_. I knew what I was getting into, and I knew the potential risks… but I took them anyway and if you think anything could have stopped me even if I had known that this would happen, you're wrong. You're here, you're alive and I'll be _damned_ if I'd say it wasn't worth it. I don't regret helping you, and I never will- just… just help me through this, but don't feel guilty okay? I don't want you to feel guilty."

Ratchet nodded mutely. "Anything you need," he told her, grasping her hand briefly as a show of gratitude and support before they both turned their attention back to the winding road ahead as they began the trek on the long, steeply graded road up the mountain.

Silence overtook them and another hour passed, leaving them where they were now: Mikaela staring at the rain on the windows, dark thoughts swirling around her, and Ratchet staring directly ahead with a firm scowl, eyes still occasionally darting over to the mechanic.

Sideswipe was the one to break the silence eventually. "When are we looking to turn off the highway, Mikaela? Is it coming up soon?" he asked.

The brunette roused herself with a small shake of her head. "Yeah, around mile marker 367… I think it's the first left after the marker. The turn off the road is going to be hard to see in the dark, but it's marked with a small light and a reflector. Think it says '_Mountain Shadows_' or something like that, on a wooden plaque."

"Won't miss it," Sideswipe said, somewhat cockily. "I can see in the dark, remember?"

Ratchet scoffed, and Mikaela turned to him just in time to see him roll his eyes. She tossed him a small grin before turning back to settle down into the seat as much as she could. "Can I sleep?" she asked, posing the question to no one in particular.

"I do not see why not. Sideswipe should be able to spot the structure with relative ease," Ratchet responded, pausing for a moment and throwing a conspiratory look at the mechanic. "He does have night vision after all."

Mikaela graced him with a small grin before putting her head against the window and falling into a light sleep almost instantly. She dozed in and out the rest of the trip, coming into awareness for the briefest of moments when they would hit a bump, or when Ratchet would mumble something to Sideswipe as the drive progressed towards its end.

Eventually gentle hands on her arms shook her awake and when she opened her eyes the area around her was completely shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from Sideswipe's headlights as they illuminated a small footpath to the Witwicky's two story mountain house.

The mechanic stretched, wincing as the vertebrae in her back and neck protested the movement loudly. Ratchet raised an eyebrow, mimicking her motion with a frown as several small pops issued from his own stiff spine. Mikaela patted his arm and slung her bag over her shoulder, sliding from the car into the somewhat chilly night air.

Ratchet stepped up quietly beside her, his footsteps making almost no noise on the gravel path as they gazed up at the house. A series of mechanical clicks and whirrs signaled Sideswipe's transformation behind them and he ambled up to stand at Mikaela's other side, his joints hissing softly as they readjusted to suit his bipedal mode.

"Soooo…" Mikaela said, swinging her arms slightly to get the blood flowing back to her extremities. "I obviously don't have the _keys_."

Ratchet threw her a somewhat miffed look. "Clearly. Any idea as to what would be the best way to get in? _Without _breaking anything?"

"Gimme a second," Mikaela said, scrutinizing the house with a critical eye, attempting to recall the layout and any weaknesses in the exterior.

"There's a window in the smaller bedroom at the back, on the second floor," she said finally, tilting her head. "There's no storm window on it. I think Sam knocked it out with a baseball when he was younger, or something… If we give it enough force, it should open."

"Better than nothing," Ratchet conceded with a scowl.

Mikaela shrugged. "Sideswipe, give me a boost up will you? I'll get in and come down and unlock the front.

"Not sure that this is a good idea," Ratchet mumbled as they walked around to the back of the house and Sideswipe lowered his hand for Mikaela to climb onto. "Perhaps I should do it."

"Nonsense," Mikaela said, dropping her bag on the ground climbing spryly into the frontliner's proffered palm. "I know how to get it open anyway."

Sideswipe lifted her up to the second story back window with a small shrug to the CMO, holding his hand steady as Mikaela pushed her weight against the window, curling her fingers around the edge and yanking hard. She stumbled and nearly lost her balance as the window scraped open suddenly and on the ground below her Ratchet narrowly resisted slapping his palm to his forehead in exasperation.

"Be slagging _careful_," the CMO hissed up at her as she clambered somewhat clumsily through the window and into the dark house. He sighed heavily as there was a loud crash and a surprised squeal from inside the top bedroom.

"I'm alright!" Mikaela's somewhat vexed voice floated down to them from the open window. "I'm fine, it's all good…"

Ratchet sighed, throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head as he bent to pick up the mechanic's bag and walked back around to the front of the house, Sideswipe trailing along behind him with a smirk. The CMO shifted impatiently from foot to foot, eyes trained on the house until there came the sound of locks sliding back and Mikaela pushed open the front door and stumbled onto the front porch with a heavy exhale.

"Something wrong?" Ratchet asked, approaching the house warily as the mechanic dusted off her jeans.

"No," she said quickly. "It's just dark. Been a while since I've been in there and I barely remember the layout. Makes it kind of difficult to navigate."

"Is there no power source?" Ratchet asked, frowning.

"Yeah, there's a generator around the side over here," Mikaela responded, hopping off the porch and jogging around to the left side of the house where a large metal box was located. "But it's gotta be switched on. Sideswipe, can I have some light please?"

The frontliner acquiesced with a short nod, flipping on the headlights that were settled within the upper part of his shoulder components and flooding the side of the house with a bright light that made Mikaela and Ratchet wince.

The mechanic sighed, dragging the top off the metal box and leaning over the side to reach the lower part of the mechanical workings within. After a moment of fiddling, she found the lever and pushed it over with a grunt, grinning to herself as the tell-tale hum travelled up the inner workings of the generator box, signaling returning electric power. She surfaced, tossing her hair over her shoulder and sliding the heavy lid back into place before turning to Ratchet and Sidewipe.

"That oughta do it," she said, dusting her hands off and hopping back onto the porch. Ratchet followed her silently, flipping the light to the entryway as they stepped inside.

He turned back to regard Sideswipe with suddenly weary eyes. "We should be relatively safe here, at least for the time being. Mikaela needs to rest until the morning – Will you be alright out here?"

"I'm a big bot, I think I can handle it," Sideswipe retorted with a sly wink to Mikaela.

Ratchet simply scoffed and shut the front door with rather unnecessary force. Mikaela gave him a brief tour of the house, showing him the shiny island kitchen and the rustic dining room and living room before climbing up the stairs to the second story and flipping on the lights in a long hallway that connected a bathroom and two bedrooms. She opened all the doors and flipped on the lights, to which Ratchet shook his head.

"Well?" Mikaela asked. "What do you think?"

"It will do," Ratchet responded, dropping her back unceremoniously onto the small table in the hallway. Mikaela rolled her eyes.

"Dunno about you," she said with a yawn. "But I'm ready to go to sleep."

"I concur," Ratchet said, shoulders slumping slightly.

"There are more blankets and pillows in the little closet behind you," Mikaela said, grabbing her bag off the table and walking into the bedroom at the end of the hall to dump its contents onto the armchair next to the bed. Ratchet 'hmm'-ed in response, pulling the door to the closet open and waving an exasperated hand in front of his face as small clumps of dust fell from the frame.

"The large bed is yours," the CMO told her offhandedly, rifling through the small closet and leaning forward to pull out several blankets. "Do you need another blanket?"

Mikaela stared at him, her stubbornness warring with her exhaustion. Finally, exhaustion won out. "Fine," she sighed. "You're taking the other bedroom, right? I won't wake up to find you like… sleeping on the floor or something, _right_?"

Ratchet leveled her with a flat look from the hallway and Mikaela shrugged before flopping face-first onto the bed with a deep sigh. She coughed as the force of her landing stirred up copious amounts of dust from the top cover and rolled back to her feet with a muttered curse.

"Yeah, I'll take that extra blanket," she told Ratchet as she yanked the dusty top cover off the bed with more force than was probably necessary and balled it up to throw at the still-distracted CMO with a small smirk.

The ball of fabric and dust hit him right in the face as he turned, impacting with a nearly comical cloud of dust before falling to the floor with a soft _'fwoof' _and leaving a deeply scowling, slightly dusty Ratchet face in its wake.

Mikaela snorted, raising her hands in self-defense as Ratchet slowly turned from the closet to regard her. He sneezed rather forcefully and the mechanic raised an eyebrow. The CMO's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, presumably to chastise her, but was cut off by another sneeze, followed by another... and then another.

Mikaela grimaced, stepping over to take the pile of folded blankets from Ratchet's arms. He growled unintelligibly, bringing his hands up to press at his face the moment they were free as he sneezed again. The mechanic patted his shoulder lightly.

"Ridiculous – _sneeze!_ – human affli- _sneeze!_ – afflictions – _sneeze!_"

"You must be allergic to dust," Mikaela said, barely retaining a giggle.

"Do you think?" Ratchet snarled, though it was made considerably less menacing by another sizeable sneeze that sent him stumbling back into the hallway with a groan.

"Sorry," Mikaela said, dropping a blanket onto the bed and carrying the rest out into the hallway. She nudged the CMO with her shoulder, indicating the direction of the smaller room and smirked as Ratchet shuffled in that general directions, the heels of his hands pressed tightly against his eyes.

Mikaela steered him into the bedroom, wincing in sympathy as he lowered his hands to reveal somewhat bloodshot eyes. She patted his shoulder and walked over to the bed against the far wall and deposited the extra blankets onto the small bench at the foot of it. She peeled the top cover back, careful not to stir up the layer of dust that had settled on it, and folded it up to toss out into the hallway where her own had fallen.

"Come on," she said, glancing over at Ratchet and patting the bed invitingly. "It's good to go."

"My thanks," Ratchet sniffed, shaking himself into movement and dragging himself over to where the mechanic stood.

"Go to sleep, Ratch," Mikaela laughed lightly. "We both need it."

"Yes. Wake me if you need anything," Ratchet mumbled, pulling the tie from his hair and shaking it loose to hang around his shoulders before dropping onto the bed with uncharacteristic heaviness. Mikaela smiled, her body betraying her own exhaustion as she had to stifle yet another yawn.

"I will," she nodded. "You do the same."

Ratchet waved her off, kicking off his shoes before pulling his legs beneath the thick blanket. The mechanic draped the extra blanket over him as well before moving back across the room toward the door.

"G'night, Ratchet," she said, flipping off the light and swathing the room in darkness.

"Good night," the mound of blankets on the bed murmured in response.

Mikaela smiled to herself as she closed the door behind her and stumbled somewhat clumsily back to the bedroom at the end of the hall, flipping off the lights as she went. She closed her own door with a sigh, kicking off her jeans and shoes immediately and staggering over to throw herself upon the bed and pull the covers over her head with a small shiver of contentment.

Mikaela closed her eyes with a deep seated, exhausted sigh and sleep took her instantly.

* * *

**Author's Note**: So, I was watching the movie earlier and I wondered… am I the only one who laughs at Lockdown when he responds to Attinger's whole "We have a saying: The enemy of my enemy is my friend," with the absolutely brilliant retort of "I also have a saying: I. Don't. _Care_." I mean, how profound is that?


	9. Old Skin

**Author's Note**: Firstly, here is a nice, long, more than double-length chapter for y'all. I had fun writing this one, and it works a little bit of insight into Ratchet's background into the story for us a bit. It's the longest chapter I've written so far, so hopefully it holds you over this week, because I've got a heavy work schedule coming up through the first couple weeks of October and I may fall a bit behind with updates. Also, this chapter is based off of the song _Old Skin_ by Ólafur Arnalds. If you haven't heard it, I suggest you check it out. It's not everyone's cuppa, but you know. :)

Secondly, I don't typically respond to reviews as part of my chapters, as I like to keep the author's notes short to create as little distraction as I can while still being personable, in addition to the fact that I prefer to respond individually via the reply feature… However, I feel the pressing need to give a big shout out and thank you to the guest reviewer known as Kaleia! She has been with the fic since mere moments after I posted the first chapter and has faithfully reviewed every chapter since. So, _thank you_ :) I wish I could reply to all of your reviews via message, but this will have to do. And again, a huge thank you to all of those who have taken the time to review, new readers or otherwise!

**Chapter 9****:** Old Skin

* * *

_Where the woods would wear the wafting sounds of sea_  
_Roves an oath, in search for something more to be_  
_"Still hard for me."_

_Treading lightly, tightly shedding its old skin_  
_Leaving trails of night for light to bring chagrin_  
_While air grows thin_

_In these hands I'll hide_  
_While this world collides_  
_It's not enough for me_

* * *

When Mikaela woke the next morning, even before opening her eyes the first thing she noticed was that she was utterly sore from head to toe. Her muscles protested every small movement as she brought a hand to rub at her eyes and push her hair out of her face. She turned over with a small groan, intending to bury her face in the comfort of her pillow, but her eyes snapped open when she realized that her pillows, her blankets – her whole _bed_ felt different. The mechanic gave her vision a moment to adjust, blinking in the bright light filtering in from the open blinds at the window to the left of the bed and realizing with a sharp jolt exactly where she was. And why she was there.

She sighed heavily, sitting up in the overly large bed and allowing the covers to slide down and pool around her waist as she hunched forward to rub the sleep out of her eyes. After a moment of bleary eyed deep breathing she opted to put the previous day behind her, at least for the moment until everything settled down again. She would, instead, be grateful that everyone was alright and that neither she nor Ratchet had been in the house at the time it was raided and burned down. She also chose to be thankful that they had managed to find Sideswipe and that he had been in good order ('_with the exception of twitchy trigger fingers'_, she thought with a snort). Yes, things could be much, much worse than what they had turned out to be.

She stretched her arms over her head, bowing her back, lacing her fingers and folding her palms outward, a satisfied grin befalling her features as a large portion of the tension eased from her muscles and spine. Sliding out of the bed, she stepped back into her jeans from the previous day with a slight grimace – they were gonna need to do something about the only-having-one-set-of-clothes thing. Preferably before it became a serious issue. With this thought swimming around in her sleep-fuzzy brain she walked silently over to open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She stood for a moment, just listening to the sounds in and around the house, fully expecting to hear Ratchet walking about downstairs or outside speaking to Sideswipe. However, the only sounds that met her ears were those of the morning crickets and the birds that inhabited the dense forest around the cabin.

She frowned, vaguely wondering if the CMO had gone somewhere without waking her, but Ratchet chose that moment to stagger out of the bedroom down the hall, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he made a clumsy attempt to close the door behind him. Mikaela raised an eyebrow as the CMO turned to regard her blearily, eyes bright and glazed over with the lingering dregs of sleep, hair sticking out at all angles despite his obviously halfhearted attempt to pull it back into a ponytail. There was simply no other way to describe it, Ratchet was –for all intents and purposes- bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Ghee," Mikaela said, yawning and not bothering to mask the surprise in her tone. "Did you go out partying last night and forget to invite me or something?"

Ratchet grumbled something unintelligible and Mikaela couldn't quite make out exactly what he said, but she _had _managed to pick up several swear words and something about a human body needing '_slagging ridiculous amounts of slagging sleep to slagging function properly_.' Before she could ask, the disgruntled CMO shuffled across to the bathroom and slammed the door behind laughed, making her way down the hall to the stairs, wondering to herself whether or not they could find anything suitable for breakfast as she descended into the kitchen.

As it turned out, the house was somewhat well stocked with the very basic of essentials: The kitchen had sealed bags of rice and some canned goods – enough, at least, to fill their stomachs for that morning. The bathrooms were mostly bereft of any supplies, the exception being a couple bars of soap and a package of bathroom tissue (much to Mikaela's stark relief).

Needless to say, their first order of business had become getting the house stocked up with supplies.

Mikaela had volunteered to… _procure_ them some supplies from the supermarket a little further down the mountain, off of the main highway. When Ratchet's eyes had narrowed at her in suspicion, she had merely shrugged and explained that she had only a couple hundred dollars in cash, and everything else had been in her checking and savings accounts and that unless they _wanted_ to give away their location, there would be no withdrawals from either of them. She had argued that what money they did have was precious, and was to be held onto unless something came up that _absolutely demanded_ they spend it.

Ratchet, as much as he hated to admit, could not argue with that logic and sat quietly, arms crossed and scowling, as the mechanic drew up some plans with the assistance of Sideswipe's holo for getting the necessary supplies they needed from the large store. Eventually they had a nice, long list consisting of food basics with the exception of the simple, nonperishables they had been able to find in the large kitchen, and personal products such as shampoo, soap, toiletries, etc.

Mikaela had also argued that they needed clothing as well and that there was a department store not far off from the grocers, to which Ratchet had scoffed and muttered about women and their obsession with apparel. Mikaela not-so-subtly put him in his place by reminding him that he had no extra clothes either, and unless he wanted to raid Sam's closet in the small bedroom and walk around in a _Slayer _T-shirt, he was going to have to accept it and move on. Again, trumped by the mechanic's logic as well as the terrifying mental image it conjured, the CMO had no choice but to agree, albeit silently and moodily.

And so Mikaela and Sideswipe had gone into town, leaving Ratchet at the cabin at his own insistence because, though he may have conceded on the act, the idea of stealing did not sit well with him and he refused to take part unless absolutely necessary. Standing in the center of the living room of the eerily quiet cabin, the CMO frowned as he glanced slowly around him, nose crinkling slightly as he beheld the small clouds of dust floating, visible in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the large windows. He stretched, cracking his neck with a grimace, and pulled the small dish towels that he had found in the kitchen out of his pocket. He tied one deftly around the lower part of his face, covering his mouth and nose, and stepped over to pull a broom and dust pan out of the closet next to the front door.

_It was time to get to work._

Sideswipe and Mikaela returned almost three hours later, nearly identical smirks plastered across their triumphant faces as they marched through the front door and dropped their armfuls of goods onto the dining room table. Small piles of food such as apples and peaches and potatoes, cucumber and tomatoes and bananas as well as bread, chicken, ground beef, eggs, small servings of milk, orange juice, frozen vegetables and cheese rapidly built upon the table as they made a second trip out to Sideswipe's alt mode, this time hauling in various clothing and personal products. Once satisfied that the Porsche was empty and the table could not possibly hold anything else, Mikaela turned, dusting her hands off, and noticed the change in the house almost immediately.

The surfaces of the countertops in the kitchen, as well as the dining table, end tables and coffee table shone noticeably in the afternoon sun, the dust having been wiped away. The sinks had been scrubbed, the floors swept and mopped and the windows were so clear that the mechanic had to do a double take to make sure that the glass was even still there. The curtains in the living room and over the kitchen sink had been beaten, cleared of dust and cobwebs and the couches looked distinctly less dingy. A grin spread slowly over Mikaela's face.

To put it simply, the cabin was _spotless._

"Huh," Sideswipe remarked, following her gaze around the open area. "Never pictured the Hatchet as the domestic type. Guess you've got him trained pretty well?"

Mikaela snorted. "I dare you to say that to his face."

"Oh, you know you don't need to _dare_ me," Sideswipe said flippantly. "No regard for my own personal safety and all of that. Where is the cranky slagger, anyway?"

"The '_cranky slagger_'," Ratchet's voice floated down from the top of the stairs, a distinct note of impatience coloring his tone, "Has ears, and is currently scrubbing the banister on the second floor above your heads."

Mikaela tilted her head back, meeting Ratchet's even stare with a broad smile. "Hey, Ratch. Looks good!"

"Thank you. How on Earth," Ratchet said sharply, gesturing to everything that they had piled on the table. "Did you manage to get all of this out of the store without getting caught?"

Mikaela's grin widened, becoming mischievous as she said "Sideswipe can change his holo."

Realization dawned slowly across Ratchet's features and he sighed as he stopped scrubbing, letting his head drop to the palm of his hand. "You two," he said, "Are terrifying as a team."

Later that evening saw them sitting around the large wooden table as the sun dipped low to the horizon, casting blue shadows over the forest and the exterior of the house and creating a peaceful atmosphere. Sideswipe, who Mikaela suspected had grown bored ambling around outside in his bipedal mode, had joined them in his holo a while ago and eventually the lively conversation had died down and the three were left in relative silence.

"I'm already getting tired of sitting here," the Autobot warrior griped suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair so that only its two back legs touched the floor. "When are we rolling out?"

Ratchet glared at him and Mikaela had the distinct impression that the CMO was considering kicking the remaining two legs of Sideswipe's chair out from under him. She cleared her throat, hoping it would distract them both, "We need a plan."

"What about finding Optimus?" Sideswipe suggested immediately. "We are weaker on our own, obviously… Boss bot has a ton of fire power, and I'll bet he's got something going in the way of a battle plan. I say we find him and join up."

"No, Optimus will be too far off the radar by now for us to find easily," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "And he is likely still on the move. No one will find him unless he wants to be found."

"What do you suggest?" Mikaela asked, levelling both Ratchet and Sideswipe with a questioning and eager gaze.

"I suggest we take our own initiative," Sideswipe responded, and Mikaela's head swiveled around to him as her interest was suddenly piqued. "I think we need to find out more about Cemetery Wind, and to do that we need to start with its partner organization… _KSI_."

"Should we contact Will?" Mikaela asked.

"No," Ratchet said sharply, and Mikaela redirected her attention to him. "At this time we need to keep to ourselves. Any contact with the colonel at this point will be serving to do nothing but put him and his family in danger. They know you are helping us, Mikaela. I do not know how, but that fact remains, and at this time we cannot risk pulling anyone else into our plans. It is too risky."

"What about a more hands-on approach?" Sideswipe said. "What if I do some digging and we get some valuable info to go on. Say we go to the company's headquarters in Chicago and-"

"_Absolutely not_," Ratchet snapped, cutting the frontliner off before he could get halfway through his sentence.

Mikaela and Sideswipe frowned in tandem. "But Ratchet-"

"Nobody is going to fragging Chicago!"

The harsh acuity in Ratchet's voice made Mikaela jump and she blinked at him in surprise from across the table as Sideswipe's holo turned slowly to regard him with the same startled expression.

"At least two of us are currently being hunted by a seriously discriminatory, dangerous, ruthless and possibly _rogue_ branch of the United States Government," Ratchet said firmly. "At_ least _two. And_ one_ of us had already had their run-in with the organization in question and would rather not repeat it."

Mikaela winced, hardly daring to argue with that statement, but unable to keep her stubborn nature in check. "Ratchet, what do you suggest we do? Sit and wait for this all to be over, when you know as well as I do that we could be out there helping, even if it is just a little bit?"

"Yes, and when we decide to throw ourselves headlong into a plan – if you can even call it such a thing – that is unstable at best and all get ourselves killed, how much help will we be _then_?"

"Well what's your alternative, then? More extensive planning? Do we search for some of the Autobots and hop on their bandwagon, if they even have one, or do we go our own way?" Mikaela growled. "Come on, you've got to give us _something_. You can't just shoot down everything we throw out on the table without-"

"The simple truth of the matter remains! We are unprepared, Mikaela, in nearly _every_ way. We know very, very little about KSI and even less about _Cemetery Wind_. We do not know _where_ the remaining Autobots are hiding, and I am _not_ about to suggest giving away our own location to send out a signal and find out."

Mikaela and Sideswipe exchanged helpless looks.

"And moreover," Ratchet sighed. "We have no supplies fit for such an undertaking. No weapons."

"Actually, that's not quite right," Sideswipe said cryptically, before glancing over at Ratchet. "Do you remember all of those human prototype… anti-Decepticon weapons that Wheeljack was working on?"

Ratchet barked a sharp, somewhat humorless laugh. "How could I forget?" he asked. The inventor had been absolutely and ridiculously ecstatic at the idea, despite all of the CMO's protests that it was '_slagging dangerous and Primus below, what would happen if those got into the wrong hands!?_' Ratchet's stomach gave a curious lurch at the memory and he shifted uncomfortably. Sideswipe eyed him with a little more softness than Ratchet would have liked, and Ratchet snapped "What about them?"

"I have some," Sideswipe said simply.

"You _what_-"

"You _do_?!"

Mikaela's eager reply came at precisely the same time as Ratchet's less-than-eager one and Sideswipe's holo flinched slightly. "Yeah, well remember how he wanted us to carry a set of them around in our subspace pockets at all times? Well, I never really… uh, they're still in there."

Ratchet levelled him with the type of stony stare that a mother might give her child when said child has just informed her that he has not cleaned his room in _months_.

"What have I _told you_?" Ratchet said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What have I said about the importance of not storing so much slag in your fragging subspace compartments?"

"Never to let it happen because it can overload the departmental sensors and cause a jam – yeah, yeah, I _know_." Sideswipe mumbled, shrugging and giving his best impression of a chastised ten-year-old.

Mikaela smirked at their antics. "So what kind of weapons?"

"Some hand-to-hand ones, the kind of up-close-and-personal stuff that Hatchet likes. Mostly firearms, though - several small hand-helds and maybe a couple of rifles."

"Well that's something at least. Right, Ratch?" the mechanic asked hopefully.

"I am not discussing this any further," Ratchet said suddenly, standing and stepping away from the table in one quick motion. "Weapons or no, we are still unprepared."

Mikaela watched him stalk angrily across the kitchen and open the back door, shutting it with a sharp sense of finality behind him. She turned back to regard Sideswipe with a frown and the frontliner shrugged.

"That didn't go quite like I wanted it to," Mikaela said.

"He is not a fighter," Sideswipe sighed, looking more serious than Mikaela could ever remember seeing him. "It isn't in his nature. He's a medic, he was a politician, a liaison, a mediator – a _diplomat_ and a _damn_ good one."

"Yeah, I know he was really prominent in political circles before the war on Cybertron," Mikaela nodded. "Between the little he's told me and what I've caught off of everyone else."

"Oh, he was _more_ than prominent - He headed the entire anti-war movement, fought it viciously for years. When he found he couldn't keep the call for war at bay any longer, he did the next best thing in his mind and became a frontline medic," Sideswipe said, leaning forward on his elbows, a look of reminiscence passing over his features. "Was never one to engage the enemy without cause, but so help him Primus if you were to set pede near one of his patients on the battlefield, there was Pit to be pay and he was a slagging force to be reckoned with. You did not want to run into the Hatchet on the front lines, I'll tell you that."

"I've seen him fight," Mikaela said, flinching slightly. "He's good, even though he won't admit it."

"Of course he's good. He's more than good, he's _exceptional _and talented, particularly when it comes to hand-to-hand combat and close range weapons - not that I would ever tell him that. He's a warrior underneath all of that peace-mongering exterior, only problem is that it was _forced_ on him. Every time he finds himself in the heat of battle, with every blow he lands, every bot he injures and every life he takes he is rebelling against his core programming. Against his purpose, or what he sees as his purpose, anyway," Sideswipe continued, casting a wary glance at still-shut back door. "Every spark he extinguishes weighs heavily on him, and he will _never_ forget, nor forgive himself for it."

"I know it does," Mikaela said, brows drawing together in a frown. "He never talks about it, though. Especially the days before the war, even when I try to get him to open up to me."

"Don't take it personally, girl. That's just Hatchet. He's never been the most open of mechs, even before the war broke out, but don't think that it means he has any less respect for you. He respects you, maybe more than anyone besides Prime."

"Yeah… I just wish I could help him."

"We've all tried," Sideswipe mumbled, leaning back in his chair again and looking up at the sky that was visible through the sprawling limbs of the pine trees. "Primus knows we've tried. But Ratchet is a hard mech to make do anything he doesn't want to."

"Surely he wants to forget all of that, though?"

"You know, as many times as I've told myself that very same thing… I don't think he does. I think it's his method of penance, of reminding himself that every life is precious, whether it belongs to an enemy or an ally," the frontliner continued thoughtfully. "I myself have never been able to see it that way. For me, it's as simple as kill or _be killed_. But I'm a warrior build and I have the luxury of being able to ignore the guilt. The medic doesn't have that luxury."

"I know he doesn't have the luxury. I wish he did – I mean, I know that's got to get really heavy, every death weighing on you for millennia… And then all this weirdness, and suddenly he finds himself stuck inside a squishy little body that I know he finds inferior. Don't even know how he's not flipping out constantly," Mikaela sighed, biting her lip.

"I'm glad he's back," Sideswipe said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Don't you breathe a word of this to him or I will prank you until you are at my pedes begging for mercy, but when word hit that we'd lost him… Well, I was convinced that we'd lost the war once and for all, and that was probably the end of our species. When he died, all of our hope went with him."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Sideswipe affirmed, his voice strangely tight. "That damn medic keeps us all put together in more ways than one. He will never understand his worth to us."

"I know that feeling," Mikaela said honestly. "I don't think he understands how many people honestly depend on him. Not just as a medic, either."

"Course not," Sideswipe laughed. "He's Ratchet. I'll be damned if I've ever seen him even consider his own value, let alone accept a compliment on it."

"Ain't that the truth," Mikaela snorted.

At that moment the back door opened again and a less-furious looking Ratchet stepped back into the kitchen with a deep inhale. When Sideswipe and Mikaela turned to stare at him, he stepped over to the table and sat rather bonelessly in the chair he'd vacated a few moments prior.

"I apologize," Ratchet said slowly, and Mikaela had to work hard to wipe the smirk off of her face as Sideswipe feigned cardiac arrest across the table at the statement. The fronliner stilled quickly when Ratchet favored him with his infamous death glare, however, and Mikaela cleared her throat out of habit in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"I do not wish to be so difficult," Ratchet continued, his gaze trained on his hands folded on the table in front of him. "How I have behaved over the past few days - I know it sounds like I have lost all hope – I have not… I only want to keep the few remaining members of our ever dwindling faction safe, if it is possible. However, what I fail to take into account rather frequently is that we are scattered and in hiding, being hunted to extinction and that is not a manner of _living _that I find even befits the word. It seems that we may wait all we wish, but this is not going to blow over, as Optimus predicted."

Mikaela winced at the truth of Ratchet's statement.

"Things have gotten out of hand in a way that we could not have foreseen," the CMO sighed, sounding old. "The fact is, the new enemy we find ourselves pitted against has many dimensions: Lockdown, for one. Cemetery Wind, for another… and KSI for a third. Between the three, they have taken many things from us. They have taken your home, Mikaela – they have taken our friends, our comrades, they have even taken our _enemies_, to say nothing of our freedom and our right to existence. And you are both right; we can no longer sit idly by and let this happen, when there is something we may do to stop it."

"So you're saying that we'll do it?" Mikaela ventured tentatively. "We'll go to Chicago?"

"I did not say that," Ratchet sighed, and then at Mikaela's crestfallen look continued on to say "One step at a time, youngling. Planning. Preparation. Detail."

"Okay," Mikaela sighed. It was something, at least. "How do we start?"

"We can start by taking a look at what type of inventory that slaghead sitting next to you has been keeping locked away in his subspace panel for the last few _years_."

Sideswipe had the grace to look slightly ashamed, though he shrugged it off a second later. "What do you wanna look at?" he asked.

"The weapon prototypes you were speaking of," Ratchet said. "I would like to see what you have of Wheeljack's models and if they will be of any real use to us. But not tonight, in the morning, when we have had time to settle and a bit more time to rest and recollect."

"Can't argue with that," Mikaela said, stifling a yawn. "I'm about ready for bed anyway, don't know about you two."

"I cannot say I would be averse to it, no," Ratchet replied, and Mikaela figured that was just his way of politely saying he was slagging tired and _well_ past the point of being done with today.

"I'll leave you two to it," Sideswipe said, rising from the table and offering a small salute as his holo flickered out of existence.

Mikaela yawned again, climbing to her feet slowly and stretching her arms out. "Yep, it's bedtime. I'm tired, and you look like you could fall asleep right where you're sitting."

Ratchet stared up at her evenly. "I do not imagine that would be very comfortable."

"No," Mikaela laughed. "Probably because it wouldn't be. Come on, let's go to bed and leave this whole day behind us."

"That sounds ideal," the CMO conceded, rising as well and turning to trail behind Mikaela through the living room and up the stairs, gently flipping off the light switch as he passed.

They bade each other goodnight at the top of the stairs and went to their respective rooms, where Mikaela wiggled into a brand new pair of pajama bottoms and a comfortably large T-shirt before settling down in bed. She took longer to fall asleep that evening, an inexplicable feeling of uneasiness keeping her mind more active than she'd have liked. Finally she was able to shove the lingering thoughts and questions out of her brain long enough to fall asleep, silently telling herself that she'd think about them more when tomorrow came.

Mikaela was up with the sun the next morning, eagerly tossing on a pair of jeans and a tank top before pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail and all but galloping down the stairs to find her two counterparts. She had been keen to see what Sideswipe had stored away in terms of human weaponry ever since she had awoken that morning and was pleased to see that the frontliner's holo was already standing on the deck at the back of the house, quietly conversing with Ratchet as the CMO sat cross-legged on the edge of the grass.

"Good morning," Mikaela said brightly as she stepped outside, chasing away the early morning chill by rubbing her arms vigorously with her hands. "What are you two up to?"

"Waiting for you to get your lazy aft out of bed," Sideswipe teased, and Ratchet shot him a reprimanding look. "What? Humans sleep too much."

"Cannot argue with that," Ratchet said simply.

"Soooo, are we gonna get going or what?" Mikaela asked, unable to contain her eagerness as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet. Ratchet raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"Get going with what?"

"You know, the stuff Sideswipe has stored away in his no-no space?"

Ratchet snorted and Sideswipe looked slightly put out. "Hasty. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No," Mikaela whined.

"Well, I suggest you get to it," Ratchet said firmly. Mikaela sighed and drug her feet back into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a protein bar that she quickly stuffed into her mouth as soon as Ratchet could see.

"There, I had breakfast," she mumbled, her mouth full of granola. "Can we move on now?

"Whenever you are ready, I suppose," the CMO sighed, favoring her with a dubious look and climbing to his feet.

"I'm definitely ready."

"Sideswipe," Ratchet said, angling his head toward the frontliner's alt mode with a sharp jerk of his chin. "Let me see what you have in the way of staves."

"You got it, Doc," Sideswipe said, his holo disappearing around the side of the house for a moment before trotting back, arms full of Wheeljack's humanized weapons. He dumped them all in a heap on the edge of the deck and stepped back, allowing his holo to dissipate as Mikaela and Ratchet stepped forward, allowing the two humans to have their choice.

Mikaela sifted through the melee weaponry, avoiding the sword and axe-like weapons and the grappling tools to fish out a mid-sized, handheld device that looked somewhat similar to a Smith and Wesson 460 caliber magnum, but nearly twice the size. She turned the weapon over gently in her hands, marveling at the relative weightlessness and the smooth finish of the metal barrel.

She glanced over at Ratchet just as the CMO chose a short, club-looking weapon that instantly reminded her of a nightstick from the pile. Mikaela tilted her head in curiosity as Ratchet mumbled to himself, holding the black metal of the weapon close to his face as he punched several buttons that were located at each end of the club in what looked to be a specific order. He nodded to himself as the weapon twisted and vibrated for a moment before extending on each end by several feet, leaving him with a nearly six foot long staff.

"What do you call that thing? Other than a big stick," Mikaela asked, gesturing towards Ratchet's weapon.

"I believe it is called a 'quarterstaff' in human terms," Ratchet said absently. "I would tell you what it is called on Cybertron, but I doubt the human vocal chords I find myself limited by will accommodate Cybertronian without disintegrating."

Mikaela winced, shaking her head quickly. "I'll just take your word for it."

"The core carries a charge," Ratchet continued, unphased. "And the charge is released by the ends, here – these blades."

"What does the charge do?"

"The electrodes within the blades release the charge, which is conducted by Cybertronium, the alloy in our frames and armor." Ratchet said, running his hands lightly over the sharpened blades at each end. "It is designed to put a great deal of stress on a Cybertronian spark, causing a massive overload and extinguishing it almost instantly."

"Like a heart attack?"

"Yes, much like the equivalent of a human heart attack."

"That's pretty powerful," Mikaela said honestly. "Wheeljack was brilliant."

"Yes," Ratchet said quietly, running his hands over the weapon almost lovingly. "He was."

Stepping backward away from Mikaela, he twirled the staff rapidly, swinging it above his head and letting it spin and roll around his hands likes the blades of a helicopter before bringing it down on the concrete with an echoing '_crack_!' The mechanic winced and jumped back at the sharp sound, eyes widening at the considerable groove left in the ruined concrete after Ratchet lifted the staff up again.

"Gheez, Ratch," Mikaela laughed. "That's a little intense."

Ratchet shrugged, straightening and rolling his healed shoulder experimentally. "Not much choice, I am afraid."

"Yeah, I guess," Mikaela sighed lightly, fingering the grooves on her own weapon and marveling at the way it fit perfectly in her hand thanks to its fluid design, a testament to Wheeljack's sheer prowess in adaptation of technology to fit circumstance.

"Ah, I see you have found one of Wheeljack's later prototypes," Ratchet said, frowning.

"Yeah, this seemed to fit me best, somehow," Mikaela nodded. "What exactly does it do? Any idea?"

"Yes, I have _plenty_ of idea," Ratchet said. "I helped him design it."

"Oh. Well?"

"It does nearly the exact same thing that my chosen weapon does – releases an overcharge that extinguishes a Cybertronian spark, only you can fire your charge from a distance in the form of an energy projectile."

"Oh, so it _is_ like a handgun," Mikaela said.

"Yes, it is quite similar. However, because of the range effect, the charges from your weapon will not be as directly effective as one that would contact a Decepticon directly, such as my staff. You may have to fire several shots in order to extinguish a target's spark."

"I can deal with that. I'm not much for getting up close and personal with unfriendly robots, anyway. Plus, I have no combat skills with melee weapons – but I can shoot," Mikaela nodded. "So your stick thingy there – it has a more powerful charge?"

"Not necessarily more powerful, no. At its inception, the charge from my weapon would be roughly equivalent to the one released from your own – however, mine is meant for close range combat and yours is not, so the charge your weapon fires will lessen as it travels the distance in between you and your intended target. It is the lack of distance that will be between my weapon and my enemy that will make the charge it releases have a more devastating immediate effect."

"I see," Mikaela responded, still running her fingers over the metal of the weapon she held. It had a mesmerizing quality to it that she couldn't quite get over. "So you would _rather_ be up close and personal with your targets, then?"

"Yes, it is my preferred method. I need to do some training with this," Ratchet continued, idly twirling the staff in his fingers and letting it roll around the back of his hand and into his palm again. "I am not used to…"

"The human body?" Mikaela asked.

"Something like that. While I am now familiar with the primary functions and such, I have yet to explore its potential and limitations in combat."

"How would you even do that?" Mikaela asked. "Other than throwing yourself into battle?"

Ratchet shook his head. "No, I would not do such a thing… I merely need some practice," he tossed a meaningful glance over at Sideswipe's alt form and jerked his head in that direction. "I need to _spar._"

"With Sideswipe? Oh, this should be good," Mikaela said, grinning eagerly. "Can I watch?"

"_You_ may do as you wish," Ratchet said gruffly, turning in the direction of the frontliner. "Sideswipe, get your aft over here."

The frontliner formed a holo quickly, walking with long strides across the grass and hopping up onto the deck to come over to stand in front of Ratchet. "What's up, Hatchet?"

Ratchet smacked him over the head with his palm, snarling. "Do _not _call me that. I need a small favor."

"What's… going on?" Sideswipe asked, suddenly fidgety as Ratchet pinned him with an intense look.

"I need to test my combat capabilities in this form," Ratchet said, sounding mildly disinterested.

"Oh? And just… how were you going to do that?" Sideswipe hesitated, glancing between the staff Ratchet was idly twirling and the CMO's straight face.

"I need a sparring partner."

"Oh. Well, where would you -… Me? Oh _no_, Doc. No."

"And why not? I will go easy on you, if you wish…" Ratchet scowled, though Mikaela could detect the teasing undertones to his jab. Sideswipe rolled his eyes.

"I'm not exactly an expert at fragging squishy fighting protocols, Hatchet!" the frontliner whined.

"That is slag and you know it," Ratchet shot back. "You helped train the soldiers of NEST, did you not?"

"Yeah but that was in firearms and blowing slag up!"

"I saw you sparring and practicing with them on several occasions, Sideswipe," Ratchet sighed, eyes narrowing cleverly. "But if you think you cannot handle it..."

"Fine!" Sideswipe shouted. "But I don't want to hear you cry after I beat your aft."

"_Oh please_," Ratchet mumbled as Sideswipe stalked to the weaponry pile on the deck and returned a moment later with a staff very similar to Ratchet's, if a little shorter and wider.

"Deactivate your charges and uninstall the blades," Ratchet said, bracing his own staff between his knees and pushing a few tiny buttons toward each end of the weapon before unscrewing the sharpened ends and removing the blades to lay them on the edge of the deck. He nodded as Sideswipe did the same.

Ratchet sent Mikaela a sly look and the mechanic stood back to lean against the frame of the back door and watched quietly, so as not to disturb the obvious focus the medic had as he stepped onto the grass from the deck, bare feet padding silently across the ground to stand across from Sideswipe's holoform.

They regarded each other silently for a moment before the frontliner broke the silence;

"I won't go easy on you, old mech. Even in that weaker body," Sideswipe said, looking somewhat feral as he began to move, circling the CMO slowly. Mikaela was suddenly reminded of a big, predatory cat who eyed its meal from all angles before springing.

"I would not expect anything less," Ratchet responded, unaffected, staying where he was with his feet planted firmly apart in the long grass and rolling the staff experimentally in his palms as Sideswipe moved. "You may expect as much from me."

The Autobot warrior circled the medic a moment longer before lunging forward suddenly. Mikaela held her breath as Ratchet spun, shoving his staff out in front of him in order to mitigate Sideswipe's first strike, his palms spread wide as their weapons connected.

A grin split Sideswipe's features and his eyes met Ratchet's. "Maybe this will be fun," he said, sounding slightly breathless as he stepped back to start circling again.

Before he could manage to fall into the pattern again, however, Ratchet made his own move. He sprung forward without preamble, jumping immediately into offensive mode and the sharp speed and fury of his strikes made Mikaela's mouth fall open with unconcealed astonishment. He had gained the upper hand over the Autobot warrior in less than ten seconds, his blows forcing Sideswipe to retreat backwards with eyes wide in surprise as he barely kept pace enough to keep the rapid attacks at bay.

The medic continued to advance with surprising speed, pushing Sideswipe back further and further until the warrior's concentration began to slip. Unable to keep up with the ferocity of Ratchet's strikes against him in conjunction with his own footing on the uneven ground, Sideswipe stumbled briefly, throwing his arms to the side to catch his balance before he fell – it was just long enough for Ratchet to draw his own focus and shove his staff forward in one smooth movement. Sideswipe turned back toward Ratchet only to find the CMO's staff pressed against his chest, resting just below his clavicle. The frontliner growled, lips lifting in a snarl to reveal his teeth as the medic pressed harder.

"Concede," Ratchet ground out.

With a growl, Sideswipe knocked the staff away from his chest and lunged at Ratchet again with his own, a series of sharp snaps echoing outward off the pine trees as their staffs collided repeatedly. Clearly Sideswipe was on the offensive now and Mikaela noticed Ratchet had to work doubly hard to keep all of the taller man's strikes from meeting their intended targets.

The frontliner whirled, catching Ratchet off guard and jabbing him hard in the stomach with the blunted end of his staff. The CMO doubled over with a sharp exhale, wincing before righting himself and dancing nimbly backward to avoid his opponent's follow up strike. Mikaela found herself on the edge of her seat watching the two seasoned warriors clash, rooting for Ratchet all the way (though she'd never say it out loud.)

Sideswipe grinned, advancing on Ratchet again and taking a large, far-reaching swing at the medic but like a seasoned gymnast Ratchet launched himself off of the lawn, twisting in midair to avoid the sweeping strike from the warrior's staff. The CMO landed gracefully, one leg stretched out, the other bent to accommodate his weight, and swept his staff in a quick and graceful arch, effectively swiping the frontliner's legs out from under him. The younger landed on his back with a hollow, echoing '_thud_.'

"That's cheating!" Sideswipe wheezed, attempting to regain his breath as he rolled to his knees. "That move is sneaky."

"It is effective," Ratchet responded simply. He swung his staff in a half circle, taking a deep breath as Sideswipe scrambled to his feet to retaliate and before Mikaela could blink they were at it again.

As Sideswipe swung a heavy blow, Ratchet widened his grip and turned the staff downward in his palms, blocking the frontliner's strike as it landed upon his own weapon. They came to a relative standstill, both pushing forward and neither willing to give, their faces inches away from each other as they pushed, arms quivering with the tremendous effort of pitting strength against strength.

"Getting slower in your old age, Hatchet?" Sideswipe taunted with a toothy grin.

Ratchet growled wordlessly, shoving Sideswipe away with all of his strength and barely retaining an answering grin when the cocky Autobot warrior stumbled and nearly fell flat on his aft.

Sideswipe regained his balance and sprung forward quicker than Ratchet could recollect himself, landing a harsh blow to the back of the medic's recently-healed leg, bringing him to one knee with grimace and a grunt of pain, but the CMO was back up again quickly. Sideswipe swung a second time, aiming another punishing blow at his shoulder and missing as the elder rolled to his feet, swinging his staff outward to block the forceful blow from the frontliner. They continued in this manner for another five minutes, dizzying Mikaela with their acrobatic display, the sharp sounds of connecting weapons bouncing off the forest around the cabin.

Finally, just as it seemed they were beginning to slow, Ratchet landed a light hit to the side of Sideswipe's ribcage, distracting him as he brought his staff down on the frontliner's left shoulder hard, the dull sound of the impact making Mikaela wince and rub her own shoulder in sympathy. The Autobot warrior staggered forward, thrown off balance, and Ratchet took the opportunity to widen his stance, plant his feet firmly at shoulder's width and swing his staff around to connect with the back of both of Sideswipe's knees and send the younger crashing to the ground with a yelp of pain and surprise.

Sideswipe groaned, wincing, and rolled over from his side and onto his back to find Ratchet looming over him, the end of his staff pressed into his sternum.

"_Concede_," the CMO said evenly, his chest heaving with exertion and perspiration trailing down his temple.

Sideswipe's mouth fell open and for a moment Mikaela thought he had been about to argue, but a grin blossomed across his face and he held his hands up in defeat. "I concede."

The CMO stepped back, pulling the staff away from the frontliner and swinging it around to the side.

"You haven't lost your touch, Hatchet," Sideswipe said honestly as Ratchet helped him to his feet with a slight scowl. "Human form or otherwise."

"That was seriously impressive," Mikaela said, jogging up to stand between them. "Both of you. Ratchet, I can't see how you can say we are unprepared to fight back after that display of skill."

"I am afraid it will take more than just a little battle prowess for us to be prepared for what is to come, Mikaela," Ratchet said tightly, activating the compression feature and letting the quarterstaff shrink back to its smaller size before turning on his heel and stalking somewhat irritably back into the cabin.

The back door shut with a decisive snap and Mikaela sighed, shoulders slumping as her arms fell limply to her sides and her head fell forward with a growl of defeat. She was vaguely aware of Sideswipe's holo kicking an unsuspecting pine cone clear across the back lawn with an angry grunt in a similar display of frustration.

_This was going to be a pain in the ass._

Though it turned out, as things often do, to be something that was out of any of their hands and only a day went by before fate once again stepped in to intervene and the decision was made for them.

The next afternoon saw Mikaela and Ratchet sitting, relatively quietly at the small kitchen table underneath the window, listening intently to the heavy rain that buffeted the roof of the house and the woodland it was surrounded by. Thunder rumbled overhead and Mikaela shivered.

"Go fish," she mumbled, rearranging the cards for what must have been the hundredth time.

Ratchet simply glowered at her. "_No_."

"What?" Mikaela laughed. "What do you mean 'no'…? It's not an option, Ratchet. I don't have the card, now you have to draw from the big deck."

Ratchet opened his mouth to retort but was cut off when the back door was thrown open forcefully enough for it to bang against the wall. Sideswipe's holo stumbled over the threshold and Ratchet jumped to his feet with a hard look in the direction of the frontliner.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Optimus," Sideswipe said, breathless. "I just received a comm from _Optimus_."

Thick silence fell and Mikaela threw a sidelong glance at Ratchet, eyes wide.

"Well?" the CMO prompted impatiently.

"He's calling all Autobots to him," the holo breathed, eyes lighting up in excitement. "We are to rally and _fight!_"


	10. Rhythm of the Road

**Author's Note**: Goodness, these chapters are just turning out longer than I plan them. This was originally a lot longer, but I decided to split it into two chapters, that way I could get this one posted for y'all this weekend. Hopefully the next one will be done by next weekend. This is a filler chapter for the sake of connecting events and the next one will be also. At this point I may begin to update every other week, rather than every week because I can foresee a lot of things falling into my lap between now and the New Year. Don't be disheartened, I will still update regularly. :)

Also, I would like your opinion on how I should proceed: I have two ideas, in regards to combining this fic with the fourth film. One option is rewriting scenes from the film to include Mikaela, Ratchet and Sideswipe. The other is running a parallel plotline, where the characters will still meet, but never in the scenes that have already been created. The second option will be a little difficult, and the characters of the film and the characters of the fic won't have as much interaction as the first option, but it is definitely workable if that's what y'all would prefer. Ideally I'd do a little of both. What do you think?

**Chapter**** 10**: Rhythm of the Road

* * *

_Oh the clouds, oh the clouds, _  
_See the break in the clouds._  
_Feel the sun shining down, _  
_Shining down through the clouds._

_Oh the wind came around_  
_Blew the dust from the moon._  
_Shook the leaves on the trees._  
_What a sound, what a sound._

_And the cattails did wail, _  
_And the darkness gather round._  
_The sky, it did shake, _  
_And the rain came down._

* * *

Silence fell again, heavy between them.

"What do we do? We can't just ignore that…_ right_?" Mikaela asked anxiously, looking between the sopping wet Sideswipe and the still-as-death Ratchet. The latter turned his head slowly to look at her, a somewhat vacant look in his eyes,

"No, we cannot," he said.

"Should I reply, Doc?" Sideswipe asked.

"Do not respond. We still do not know whether the technology Cemetery Wind possesses is advanced enough to hack into our own comm signals – I know for a fact Lockdown has his claws on such abilities and is very capable of plugging right into our conversations just like Soundwave was, however. Knowing Optimus, he does not expect a response – merely our presence."

"So…" Mikaela prompted.

"Where did they say the rendezvous point is, Sideswipe?" Ratchet asked, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts.

"They're meeting somewhere in the eastern Nevada desert," Sideswipe said. "I have the coordinates, but they are rolling out tomorrow morning."

"There's no way we're going to make it to eastern Nevada by tomorrow morning," Mikaela said, frowning.

"No," Ratchet agreed. "Where is the second rendezvous point? Where are they heading?"

Sideswipe fidgeted, then, looking as nervous as a tethered colt. "Uh…"

"Out with it, Sideswipe. I have no patience for games," Ratchet snapped.

"_They're going to Chicago_."

The atmosphere became even more tense, and the three gathered at the table sat completely still, both Sideswipe and Mikaela's gaze focused upon Ratchet. The medic stood from the table and Mikaela winced as the scrape of his chair across the floor cut through the silence and her head swiveled around to watch the CMO as he began to pace the floor, one hand rubbing at his forehead as though chasing away a headache.

"Chicago it is, then," Ratchet sighed after a long moment, looking for all the world like it was the hardest thing he'd ever conceded to.

"When?" Mikaela asked quietly, standing as well.

"Now. Go and pack what you need and meet me back down here," the CMO sighed.

Mikaela nodded, turning to dash up the stairs as Ratchet stepped over to speak to Sideswipe in quick, hushed tones.

Halfway through throwing her bag together, she heard Ratchet move into the bedroom he'd been using down the hall and begin to prepare his own. She rushed, trying to weed out what was unnecessary, but ended up with a stuffed-to-the-seems heavy bag anyway. She figured it would be best for them not to leave anything behind that would give away that someone had been living in the Witwicky cabin.

The mechanic grunted in annoyance as she dragged her heavy bag down the stairs and into the kitchen where Ratchet was standing near the table where Sideswipe was seated lazily, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

Mikaela briefly noticed that all of the nonperishables they had … _procured_ from the grocers were tied neatly in plastic bags on the countertop, courtesy of Sideswipe. Ratchet turned to meet her gaze with an intense look.

"It is a long drive to the outskirts of Chicago," he informed them irritably as Mikaela kicked her bag over to the table. "Best to be prepared."

"We'll have to try and go around the bigger towns," Sideswipe said, stretching his arms and putting them behind his head. "Never know where Cemetery Wind may be lurking. They may not able to recognize me offhand with the new alt. mode, but that doesn't mean that they won't be carrying the technology that can."

"Yes," Ratchet agreed. "They could be anywhere, especially if they are aware that Optimus is heading in the direction of Chicago. They have likely set up several posts along the way. It may be best if we take a… less than standard route."

"Less than standard?" Mikaela asked, hauling her bag up around her shoulders with some effort.

"According to the info I can access, the most direct route would be Interstate 15 all the way from the California border, through the southern tip of Nevada, up through Utah where we would hit Interstate 70 and take it all the way through Colorado before veering north onto Interstate 80 and following that all the way through to Chicago," Sideswipe said, pulling off the sunglasses that were perched on top of his mop of hair and twirling them idly in his fingers.

Mikaela shook her head with a small laugh. "And you're suggesting a less direct route?"

"Yes," Ratchet responded, bending to lift the bag he had packed onto the table before easing Mikaela's off her shoulders to place it next to his. "That would be preferable."

"Okay, so what are we talking here?"

"Not too indirect," Sideswipe said lightly. "I think we should hit highway 50, just east of here and follow it slightly south all the way through Utah, into Colorado where it meets with Pueblo, before turning north on interstate 25, following it all the way through to Denver, and taking the smaller state highways east all the way to Illinois, rather than staying on Interstate 80 all the way."

"Agreed," Ratchet said, turning to take a look at the cabin that had been their home for the past week. "Is everything as we found it?"

Mikaela nodded, "Except the dust. You kinda took care of that."

Ratchet 'hmm'-ed noncommittally. "If everyone is ready, we should leave as early as possible."

"I'm ready if you are," Mikaela smiled. "Let's do this."

She leaned to pick up her bag from the table, but Sideswipe beat her to it, sweeping it off and slinging it over his shoulder with easy strength.

He winked at her and she gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks!"

"No problem, femme."

Mikaela gathered the few grocery bags off the counter into her arms and gave Ratchet a small nod as he gave the cabin one last visual sweep.

"Do not forget to lock the door behind you," the CMO advised, stepping on the front porch and looking, somewhat grimly, at the dark clouds overhead that were still dumping rain on them.

Mikaela followed Sideswipe out the door, turning to lock it and swing it shut with a final snap. She regarded the cabin for a moment with a brief smile before stepping off the porch behind the frontliner and medic and running across the yard and driveway with a small squeal, bags clutched tightly to her, trying to avoid the puddles that had accumulated in little depressions in the gravel.

They tossed the bags into the storage compartment of Sideswipe's alt. mode and he quickly subspaced them before cutting his holo and popping open his doors. Mikaela slid in smoothly, shaking the water from her hair with a shiver and laughing as Ratchet flopped into the opposite seat with an irritated grunt, shaking the water off his own arms with vigor after closing the door.

"Hey!" Sideswipe said. "Don't you dare get my interior wet!"

"Mute it," Ratchet grumbled as they pulled out of the drive and on the road that would take them halfway down the mountain and over the California/Nevada border.

The drive out of California and through Nevada was long and uneventful, and after the fifth hour in the car Mikaela grew incredibly bored. "Can we stop and get something to eat?" she asked hopefully.

Ratchet shook his head, though he himself looked bored to the point of insanity. "We need to avoid stopping unless completely necessary. There is plenty of sustenance in the bags we brought along. Try something from there."

Mikaela sighed, pulling a bag from the small compartment behind the seats and digging around in it for a moment before glumly pulling out a small package of sunflower seeds and tearing them open with a pout.

"That is not what I meant," Ratchet said, eyeing her salty snack of choice with distaste.

Mikaela stopped halfway to popping handful of the seeds into her mouth and turned to regard him with a dirty look. "If we're not going to stop and get something, then let me eat whatever is in the bags. You're the one who suggested it."

"Sustenance, girl," Ratchet said tightly. "That means –"

"I _know _what it means, ya goddamn snack Nazi!" Mikaela snarled. "Maybe I just want something to chew on!"

Ratchet opened his mouth to retort hotly, but Sideswipe's overdramatic sigh cut across anything he'd been about to say.

"Oy! Will you two quit your bickering? You're reminding me of Mudflap and Skidz," he said, then after a moment of silence, "Don't make me pull myself over."

Mikaela loosed a very unladylike snort of laughter and Ratchet rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth tilted up in a small smile.

The brunette spent the rest of the way through Nevada alternating between sleeping, nibbling on the food they had, listening to music on her iPhone and trying to prod Ratchet into a fit of fury (which she succeeded at more often than not).

By the time they had gained the Utah border, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon and it was nearly 9pm. Mikaela yawned, stretching as much as she could in the small space of Sideswipe's alt. mode. With a pang of nostalgia, she suddenly missed Ratchet's alt. mode fiercely. She shifted slightly in her seat, glancing over at the CMO, who was settled in the seat next to her and had his head tilted back against the headrest and his eyes closed. Mikaela could tell he was still awake by the soft tapping of his fingers against the car door.

As though he could feel her staring, he tilted his head toward her and opened his eyes, the pale blue of his irises standing out even in the darkness of Sideswipe's cab.

"What is it?" he asked, blinking at her curiously.

"Nothing…" Mikaela said, offering him a small smile, which he returned.

"Restless?" he asked.

Mikaela nodded.

"Where the hell are we anyway?" she asked, squinting out the windshield at the sudden presence of structures around them.

"No idea," Ratchet said, mirroring her actions and taking in the somewhat dilapidated appearance of the few houses and businesses that lined the poorly paved road. "Sideswipe?"

"This… uh… _town_, is called Hinckley," Sideswipe said somewhat derisively. "Can you even call this a town?"

"Not really, but so long as someone has a working bathroom I really don't give a damn," Mikaela said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Look for a public place, will you? A restaurant or something. I have to _pee_."

They drove along the main road for a few more minutes and were starting to reach the outside of the small town when a bright neon sign off to the left caught Mikaela's attention.

"Hey, wait," she said. "Stop here. It looks like it's gonna be the last place."

Ratchet leaned forward to scrutinize the mechanic's chosen location with distaste. The neon sign that Mikaela had seen turned out to the a large _Budweiser_ logo anchored to the side of a small, gray, dingy looking building with a half-worn away wooden sign that hung above the door that read '_Phil's Bar and Billiards_.' The door underneath was wide open, murky light spilling out from the bar and onto the gravel of the parking lot, and Ratchet was able to catch a brief glimpse of the bar's… _patrons_ as Sideswipe pulled into the lot.

"This looks somewhat unsavory," Ratchet said, narrowing his eyes at the tiny bar. "I should accompany you."

"Pffft! No thank you," Mikaela laughed, sliding out of the driver's seat of the Porsche. "I've got my big girl pants on today! I can go the bathroom by myself."

She closed the door with a decisive snap, effectively cutting off Ratchet's retort. The CMO sunk back against the seat with a growl, and Sideswipe's laugh filtered through the speakers.

"She'll be fine, Doc," he said. "Girl can handle herself just fine with us, so she can probably do the same with the squishies."

"Will you _stop_ calling them that," Ratchet bitched, crossing his arms firmly over his chest and turning his gaze watchfully on the door of the building. Sideswipe continued to laugh.

Mikaela stepped confidently inside of the bar, stopping briefly in the doorway to regard the inside of the bar before scoping out the bathrooms and dexterously making her way over, slipping quietly between patrons to get to the door and let herself in. She failed to notice the pair of eyes watching her with obvious intent from the other side of the bar.

The mechanic stopped briefly to check her reflection in the dirty mirror on the way out before washing her hands, mild disgust coloring her features at the somewhat filthy bar of soap that stuck to the ceramic finish of the sink. Sighing as she found no paper towels to dry her hands with, she was resolved to wipe them on her jeans as she distractedly pushed the door open to head back through the bar and into the parking lot. In her preoccupied state, she failed to notice the rather solid human being standing just on the other side of the door until she quite literally ran into him.

"Oh," she yelped, having to tilt her head back to look up at the man who towered over her. "Excuse me."

She tried to edge around him, but he simply stood in front of her blocking her path. "Excuse me…?" she tried again, frowning when he still didn't move. She took a step back and put her hands on her hips, silently assessing the person who was barring her way. A hulking slob of a man stood before her, his somewhat oversized belly peeking out of the hem of his dirty white shirt. Unkempt stubble peppered a dirty face with sneering lips and beady eyes, and Mikaela's eyes flickered over his exposed upper arms just long enough to catch several terribly done tattoos.

She grimaced at the smell of alcohol on his breath as he leaned forward with a grin that exposed several decaying teeth. '_Slightly drunk, cheap beer, regular customer_,' she profiled quickly, using an old technique her father had taught her. '

"Come 'ere often?" he drawled.

'_Make that more than slightly drunk…'_

Mikaela frowned, "_No_?"

"You new around here or somethin'?" he asked thickly, the stupid grin still plastered on his face.

"No," Mikaela ground out, narrowly resisting the urge to wave her hand rudely in front of her face to diffuse the smell of the stranger's breath. "I'm actually on my way out, so if you could please step aside and let me pass…?"

"Where you goin' in such a hurry?" he slurred. "Ain't no way to be. Been too long since we had a sexy lil' thing like yourself around here. Let me buy ya a drink."

"No, I don't think so," she sighed, shifting to squeeze between him and the bar. "I have people waiting for me outside."

The stranger put his arm between her and the bar casually, stepping into her path again. "Ya know," he said, the faux friendly tone melting away immediately as he regarded her with narrowed eyes. "That's really rude, to say no to a gentleman offerin' to buy ya a drink."

"Gentleman, right," Mikaela muttered with a roll of her eyes. She ducked below his arm quickly and began making her way back toward the door of the bar without so much as a glance back.

The stranger blinked in surprise for a moment before turning around with more speed than his mass probably should have allowed. Mikaela gasped lightly in surprise as his arm shot out, thick fingers wrapping around her upper arm, roughly pulling her away from the door. Anger flashed in her eyes and she reacted on pure instinct, reeling around with the speed of a dancer, right hand formed into a fist as she swung out and clocked the man right in the nose.

He stumbled back against the bar in shock and all of the chatter in the small building died down immediately so that the only thing Mikaela could hear was the ragged breathing of her would-be attacker and her own steady breath as she straightened up and planted both feet apart.

Mikaela grinned as she raised both fists in front of her and bounced on the balls of her feet. The man staggered for a moment before pushing himself off the bar and launching himself at her with a furious snarl.

_It had been too long since she'd had a good fight._

Outside in the parking lot, Ratchet's ears perked at sudden shouting and whooping from within the bar. He shifted over to the driver's side of Sideswipe's alt mode to get a better look, squinting out the window at the sudden movement within the door.

"Wait here," Sideswipe said, his holo flickering into existence. "I'll check it out."

Before Ratchet had a moment to protest, Sideswipe's holo was already halfway across the parking lot and heading for the door of the bar. The CMO sighed to himself, finding it difficult to resist the urge to let himself out of the frontliner's alt. mode and pace the parking lot to his heart's content, but managing to reign in his urge and settled back into the seat again to watch the door with keen eyes.

Ratchet's stomach lurched as Sideswipe emerged from the front of the bar a moment later with Mikaela in tow. He frowned as he noticed the Autobot warrior was half dragging, half escorting the brunette in the direction of his alt. mode with a firm grip on her upper arm.

As they got closer, Mikaela stumbled briefly and Ratchet shot out of the front seat, took one look at the mechanic's bloodied face and snarled "What _happened_?"

"She got in a bar fight!" Sideswipe laughed, tossing his head back toward the bar. "Some disgusting mess of a squishy got his aft handed to him. Should have seen it, Hatchet. She had him on the floor and was straddling his chest and beating the _slag_ out of him! He only managed to get like two hits in!"

Ratchet saw red, his legs moving forward of his own accord as he launched himself toward the bar with an inarticulate growl, eyes flashing. Sideswipe, having spent millennia around the Autobot CMO, knew exactly what was coming and shot forward quickly to restrain the angrily advancing medic.

"Let go of me," Ratchet snarled, struggling against Sideswipe, who yanked him backward by his arms with a good deal of force. "I am going to teach that slagger a lesson he will not soon forget!"

"_Down_, Hatchet!" Sideswipe grunted as he took an errant elbow to the chest. "I get it – you're paternal! But Mikaela already gave the squishy a damn good thrashing. He was still rolling around on the floor howling when we left. Do you think I would have come back out otherwise?"

Ratchet stopped struggling at that and turned to regard Mikaela as Sideswipe released him. The mechanic was grinning wildly, her nose bleeding freely around her lips and down her chin. He shook his head, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

"Sideswipe," he said evenly, without looking at the frontliner. "Go and get that small first aid kit I gave you all to carry for our human counterparts four years ago. I _know_ you still have it."

Sideswipe shrugged noncommittally and headed back toward his alt. mode, returning a moment later with a small white box in his hands.

Ratchet clicked it open with nimble fingers while it was still in the frontliner's hands and fished out several alcohol swabs. Tearing one open and handing the empty packaging back to Sideswipe, he approached Mikaela without preamble and slowly began wiping at the blood on her chin and upper lip.

"I can do that, yanno," Mikaela said casually, hissing and jerking her head away when Ratchet swiped over the split in her lip.

"You should not have gone in there alone," Ratchet said firmly, ignoring her statement and wrapping his fingers around her chin to hold her in place as he continued to dab away the blood. "_Hold still_."

"I'm a big girl," Mikaela said, somewhat petulantly, and a smile briefly danced across Ratchet's features.

"Yes, I can see that," he said. Then, very quietly, "_I hope you gave him a sound thrashing_."

Mikaela could only grin in response.


	11. Where No One Goes

**Author's Note:** Whew, barely under the wire with this one! It's still Sunday where I am, so technically I did manage to post this weekend. ;) This chapter fought me the whole way, and I kind of had to wrestle it onto the page, but hopefully it's not too terrible – if a little boring. This should be our last filler, because our little trio of Autobot misfits have just hit Chicago.

* * *

**Chapter 11**: Where No One Goes

After leaving the parking lot of the small bar at the edge of Hinckley, they continued east toward the Colorado border, weaving through towns no bigger than a few miles from end to end and avoiding the larger thoroughfares. After several hours of doing nothing but staring out the window, Mikaela gave in to the urge of sleep.

The mechanic had slept fitfully, head lolling uncomfortably against the headrest as she swam in between unconsciousness and wakefulness for nearly four hours. The next time that she awoke fully, the bright blue clock on Sideswipe's dash read _6:35am_ and the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. She stretched with a small groan, sighing in satisfaction when her back popped in all the right places, and turned to her side to see Ratchet, propped up between his seat and the door of Sideswipe's alt. mode, head tilted against the window and face curiously absent of his trademark scowl. He was fast asleep.

Mikaela grinned.

"Oh good, someone is _awake_," Sideswipe remarked dryly.

"Sorry," Mikaela whispered offhandedly. "Long drives are_ boring_, but I probably don't have to tell you that. Where are we now?"

"We're just crossing the Utah/Colorado border," the frontliner responded somewhat tiredly. "Twenty hours to go."

Mikaela winced, dreading the thought of spending another whole day and night in the somewhat cramped interior of Sideswipe's alt. mode. She glanced over when Ratchet shifted in his sleep, his hair slipping over his shoulder before trailing down his back, earning a shudder from the unconscious CMO.

"He doesn't like being in vehicles," Sideswipe mumbled, as though anticipating the direction that the mechanic's thoughts were heading in.

"I noticed. How long's he been asleep?" Mikaela asked.

"A couple hours now," Sideswipe chuckled. "He fought it, but I guess being a human means you can't forcefully ignore your recharge warnings. I think it pisses him right off."

"I'll bet," Mikaela grinned. "But it's good for him."

"Damn right," Sideswipe grunted. "Damned impossible to get the Pit-forsaken medic to recharge otherwise."

"Damned impossible for the _Pit-forsaken_ medic to sleep while you two are chatting like two femmes at an energon party," Ratchet grumbled suddenly, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Mikaela said, wincing. "I didn't even know we were talking that loud."

"Sorry Hatchet," Sideswipe mumbled at the same time as Mikaela, having the good grace to sound ashamed.

"It was time for me to wake regardless," Ratchet waved them off. "We just crossed the Colorado border?"

"Yeah, we're coming up to a town called Grand Junction here around the next bend," Sideswipe supplied, just as they crested the hill that overlooked a large valley below.

The mountains of Colorado surged upward before them, awash in deep blues and purples that stood out in sharp relief to the vibrant, cloudless cerulean sky. Heat was already beginning to rise from the asphalt road in waves, creating a watery effect across the surface of the highway and Mikaela soaked up the rising sun through the driver's side window like a sponge.

The vague familiarity of the landscape brought a small smile to Mikaela's face and she sat back in her seat, reaching behind her to fish some food out of one of their bags. She pulled a bag of granola forward with a triumphant grin and quickly proceeded to stuff a handful of it into her mouth before looking over and offering the open bag to Ratchet.

The CMO shook his head with a deep breath, grimacing at the proffered food.

"Aren't you hungry?" Mikaela asked, frowning.

Ratchet shook his head slowly, making it a point to avoid looking at the bag of granola Mikaela was still holding in his direction.

"But it's healthy," she tried again, finally pulling the bag back when Ratchet shook his head at her a third time, this time shooting her a venomous look as well.

He took another deep breath and reached over to compress the button that allowed the Porsche's window to slide downward into the gap in the door. Mikaela frowned.

"You okay, Ratch?"

"Fine," Ratchet said, leaning against the door and letting the fresh air whip through his hair.

"Are you sure?" Mikaela pressed. "You look pale."

"Your heart rate is a little high," Sideswipe commented helpfully and Ratchet scowled at the console.

"I am _fine_," he bit out.

Ratchet paled even further when Sideswipe took a curve in the road rather quickly and realization dawned upon Mikaela. She knew exactly what was wrong, even if the stubborn CMO refused to admit it. Ratchet was _carsick_. She smiled slightly at the irony, patting his shoulder sympathetically and grinning at the somewhat puzzled look he threw her in response.

"Sideswipe, any gas stations coming up?" she ventured, ignoring the look she got from the medic. "I need to grab a couple of things and make a pit stop."

"There's one in about thirteen miles in the direction we're headed," Sideswipe said.

Ratchet looked for a moment as though he would protest, opening his mouth to form a retort, but thought better of it and simply leaned back against the door with a sigh, closing his eyes tightly.

He remained in that position until Sideswipe slowed down several moments later to pull into the parking lot of a decent sized Shell gas station. As soon as they had pulled into a parking space, Ratchet reached down and deftly unbuckled his seat belt.

"This time I am going in with you," he said to Mikaela in a tone that brooked no argument. "So we will not have a repeat of your last excursion."

"I can take care of myself," Mikaela said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, as evidenced by your split lip and nearly broken nose."

"Hey, that wasn't even _close_ to what that_ asshole_ came out with," Mikaela reasoned. "Besides, it's not like this is another bar. It's just a gas station and I -"

"Do not argue with me," Ratchet said evenly, climbing out of his side of the Porsche and coming around to stand by her door, cutting the mechanic off before she could finish her sentence. "That is final."

The CMO kept his hand on her shoulder as he steered her through the corner store and to the restrooms located at the back. He glared icily at the two male clerks behind the counter, one of which had the guts to look at Mikaela for about three seconds too long, in his opinion. Mikaela snorted in derisive humor as the clerk with the staring problem had the good grace to look fearful in the shadow of Ratchet's glare and shrank back slightly behind the counter.

They reached the bathroom doors and Mikaela stopped, turning to regard the CMO dubiously.

"You're not following me all the way in, are you?" she asked warily. "You're waiting out here, right?"

Ratchet fixed her with a deadpanned, slightly unimpressed stare. "Of course I am waiting out here. To do otherwise would be highly inappropriate."

Mikaela gave him a skeptical look as she turned to push the restroom door open. "_Like that's ever stopped you from doing things_," she mumbled.

"What was that?" Ratchet asked tightly.

"Nothing!" Mikaela said quickly, stepping in and shutting the door behind her, effectively putting a stop to the banter.

When she reemerged Ratchet was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed across his chest, and she flashed him a cheesy grin and gave him a sarcastic thumbs up. He rolled his eyes rudely at her and jerked his head in the direction of the door, indicating that they should leave.

"Hold your horses," Mikaela said stubbornly. "I need to pick up a few things."

Ratchet followed her out to the rows of chips and cookies and soda with a very put-upon sigh and proceeded to sulk in the main aisle at the front of the little store where he paced with crossed arms, occasionally deeming it necessary to throw a nasty look or two in the direction of the clerk at the front.

In the meantime, Mikaela became distracted by all of the selections of water, finally settling on one by reaching into the cooler blindly and grabbing the first one to meet her hand. She tucked the bottle under her arm and proceeded to seek out the aisle that held all the packets of individual doses of every over-the-counter medication known to mankind. After spending a good five minutes rooting around through every possible form of antihistamine and cough suppressant in existence, she finally found what she was looking for: a small foil packet with a double dose of non-drowsy Dramamine. She had just about put everything back in preparation to head up to the register and pay when a hand on her shoulder nearly sent her jumping out of her skin.

Ratchet had reappeared beside her quietly and she turned to smack him in the arm for sneaking up on her, but the serious look on his face stopped her where she was. "Ratchet?" she asked curiously as he threw a cautious look toward the front of the store, out the large windows.

"We need to move," he said quietly, wrapping his fingers around Mikaela's wrist and pulling her in the direction of the door. "Two state patrol cars just pulled into the parking lot."

"Oh, okay," Mikaela said, grinning at the store clerks as they went by the desk and showing them the bottle of water and the small packet of medication and slapping down a ten dollar bill on the counter as she was firmly dragged away. "I got these. Keep the change!"

Ratchet grumbled as he pushed her out the front doors and into the parking lot, making a point to put himself between her and the line of sight from the officers who still sat in their cruisers. Mikaela, for her part, pretended to be occupied by the bottle of water she had in her hands in order to avoid looking in the direction of the patrol cars. They had made it halfway across the parking lot, and the mechanic was just starting to relax when two car doors swung open and the officers got out of their cruisers in tandem, immediately making their way toward where she and Ratchet were headed.

The CMO cursed under his breath.

"What do we do?" Mikaela whispered, all of her muscles tensing automatically in preparation for a confrontation.

"Hard to say what they are here for, best not to chance it. Go to Sideswipe," Ratchet mumbled, giving her a small nudge in the direction of the Porsche. "Wait there. Do not get out unless I tell you to."

Mikaela hesitated. "But what about you?"

"They won't recognize _me_," Ratchet growled and gave her a discreet but firm push toward where Sideswipe was 'parked'. "But they will likely recognize _you_. Now go on."

Mikaela took a deep breath and walked as quickly as she could without running or appearing suspicious the rest of the way across the parking lot, refusing to look behind her until she had quietly slipped inside of Sideswipe's waiting alt. mode.

She watched as Ratchet met the approaching officers halfway and sunk low in her seat as Sideswipe's door snapped shut of its own accord. "I saw them coming," the frontliner said. "But I couldn't get a holo in to you two without them seeing it."

"It's okay," Mikaela said, craning her neck as she attempted to watch what was transpiring outside. "Ratchet saw them as soon as they pulled in."

Mikaela tensed as Ratchet glanced back toward her and Sideswipe, indicating them with a sweeping gesture of his arm and a shake of his head.

"Ratchet thinks they'd recognize me," Mikaela breathed. "Why?"

"Because Cemetery Wind is a branch of your government," Sideswipe said quietly. "They burned your _house_ down- they obviously know of your involvement somehow. Your face is probably being circulated amongst all branches of the government, if not country-wide, as _wanted_."

"Oh," Mikaela said, her stomach flopping dully at that little revelation. "Yeah."

"I wouldn't worry about it, femme," Sideswipe said. "You got a whole bunch of giant alien robots on your side."

Mikaela smiled halfheartedly.

"Can you pick up what they're saying?" she mumbled to the frontliner.

"Ratchet is telling the officers that you are his daughter and you are both in the middle of a planned road trip across the country to check out colleges for you," Sideswipe said and Mikaela could tell he was just as tense as she was.

One of the officers pointed in their direction, at Mikaela, and tilted his head slightly as he spoke to Ratchet, a puzzled look plastered across his face. Mikaela took several deep breaths to calm her nerves.

"I hope they don't notice that I'm a bit old to be checking out freshman colleges with my dad," she mumbled.

Sideswipe responded with a light laugh. "They are skeptical of _his_ age – they don't think he looks old enough to be your father. _If they only knew_."

"No kidding," Mikaela snickered. She sobered up quickly, however, when Ratchet parted from the officers with a nod and rapidly made his way back to where they were parked, deep scowl decorating his features.

"They recognize her," the medic said somewhat urgently as he slid into the seat and Sideswipe's engine roared to life. "They don't know where they've seen her face before, but they know that they have… I do not wish to be present when they remember that they have seen it on the government's _WANTED_ propaganda. Get us out of here."

Sideswipe revved his engine and left the parking lot at the fastest acceptable speed and only once they were nearly five miles away and realized they were not being followed did they finally relax.

"Let's try to keep an even lower profile, shall we?" Ratchet sighed, tilting his head back against his headrest tiredly.

"We're keeping a pretty low one as it is," Mikaela sighed, looking over at him. "What the hell were they even doing there anyway?"

"They were searching," Ratchet said simply.

"Searching?" Sideswipe asked. "For what?"

"_You_."

"Oh," Sideswipe responded, an air of surprise in his tone. "All the way out here?"

"Presumably everywhere. And not just you, in all actuality – All Autobots, as well as Decepticons. There is quite a heavy bounty on us all, from what those officers divulged to me. And I believe they are aware of our rallying point, even if it is unconfirmed."

"Not surprising, I guess," Mikaela said. "Did we really expect anything different?"

"No," Ratchet supplied. "But I did not expect to run into this kind of trouble so quickly and so far away from California and Texas, the last confirmed locations of Autobot sightings."

"Will that throw us off?"

"Not particularly, although I think it may be best if _you_ keep hidden. Out of the three of us they are more likely to recognize you."

"Well that's great," Mikaela huffed. "Got almost another whole day on the road and I am not even allowed to leave the car?"

"I did not say that," Ratchet said gently. "But we need to be very careful about it."

Mikaela sighed, resisting the urge to cross her arms and pout. Suddenly remembering half the reason that she had asked to stop in the first place, she dug the little foil packet of pills out of her pocket and tossed them, along with the water bottle, over to Ratchet. The CMO caught them deftly, but threw her a puzzled look upon seeing the pills.

"Dramamine," Mikaela told him. "It'll really help with your motion sickness."

"My…" Ratchet frowned, looking down at the little packet in the palm of his hand. "How did you know?"

"You looked ready to puke," Mikaela shrugged. "I used to get carsick when I was a kid. It's kinda hard to miss, you know. Those are non-drowsy so hopefully they won't knock you out."

"Thank you," Ratchet said honestly, and Mikaela threw him a small smile as he quickly swallowed one of the doses with a mouthful of water and settled back into the seat.

The trio fell once again into silence, speaking very little as they made their way up the mountains and down the other side onto the Western Slope, hitting the small town of Pueblo before turning north to follow the I-25 corridor.

Nearly three hours came and went before red pillars of earth and rock rose sharply on the horizon, like sentinels standing at rapt attention against an indigo sky and Mikaela's chest tightened as she registered that they were approaching the Garden of the Gods. She shared a glance with Ratchet, smiling wordlessly at him as they passed silently through the rock formations, and put her head against the window.

The mechanic dozed, zoning in and out as they hit Denver and made their way further westward. Eventually the mountains drifted out of sight and they found themselves surrounded by nothing but vast seas of grass and farmland topped by wide open sky.

"What the heck is this, Wisconsin?" the mechanic asked drowsily, rubbing her eyes and straightening in her seat.

"No," Ratchet huffed. "This is Nebraska."

"_Boring_," she had groaned, letting her head fall forward to the steering wheel. "Corn _everywhere_. Euuugh, smells like cow."

"Do you even know what a bovine smells like?" the CMO asked, a note of honest curiosity to his tone.

"… No," Mikaela pouted. "But I can guess. Probably smells like the _urrghhh_ we are smelling right now."

"Not much we can do about that, I am afraid," Ratchet said, although Mikaela caught him wrinkling his nose in shared disgust as he finished the sentence. "Unfortunately, the next state will likely prove to be similar, and just as monotonous from the highway."

"Wisconsin?" Mikaela asked, blinking.

"_No_," the medic responded, tilting an eyebrow in her direction. "Iowa."

"Sounds boring," Mikaela sighed, slumping back down into her seat. "Are we stopping at all, or do you two plan on just hauling ass all the way to Illinois?"

"I suppose we will have to stop somewhere along the way. Sideswipe has not recharged in two days," the CMO said, a hint of reproach in his voice. "And we cannot continue to sleep in here."

Mikaela grinned. She could _feel_ Sideswipe shrug around her.

"Wake me when something interesting happens," she said, shaking her head to keep the encroaching sleep at bay for a moment longer.

"Fat chance, femme," Sideswipe's voice floated out of the speakers. "Not been anything interesting for miles. Not likely to be anything worthwhile for many miles more."

"Whatever," the mechanic mumbled, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. "All the more reason for me to go back to sleep."

Ratchet 'hmm'-ed in agreement and Mikaela let her head fall back to the window and her bored brain carry her back into a light doze.

The mechanic groaned in frustration as the feeling of hands on her arm and shoulder coaxed her from sleep after an unsatisfactory amount of time had passed, in her opinion. It took her a moment to orient herself enough to realize that the hands belonged to Ratchet, and he was trying to coax her out of the tight little ball she had bunched herself into.

"Mikaela," Ratchet said softly. "Wake up – That cannot be comfortable."

"_It is_," Mikaela mumbled, curling in on herself and drawing her legs even further onto the seat.

Ratchet scoffed, but when he made a move to shift her into a different position, Mikaela whined petulantly.

"Mikaela, your spinal column is not meant to stay in that position for very long," Ratchet snipped impatiently, firmly attempting to roll her over.

"Lemme alone," Mikaela growled. She swatted at him clumsily, groaning and turning over as much as she could in the seat so that her back was to him.

Ratchet sighed heavily behind her and an amused chuckle poured from Sideswipe's speakers as Mikaela rapidly and gladly went back into her dreams.

She was woken again what had to have been a few hours later, in the dark, by a hushed query from Sideswipe.

"Ratchet," Sideswipe whispered.

"What is it, Sideswipe?" Ratchet mumbled, clearly half asleep.

"I…" the frontliner hesitated uncharacteristically. "Well, I… I'm glad you're back."

There was a faint rustle of fabric as Ratchet sat up straight in his seat, and then silence for a moment before he responded, "I am, too."

"Do you ever think about… y'know," Sideswipe whispered tentatively. "Changing back?"

"Clarify what you mean, please."

"I mean, if you had the chance to go back to a Cybertronian body – your_ real_ one, would you do it?"

Even in her sleepy state of haziness, Mikaela could practically feel Ratchet's frown.

"I have not given it much thought," he said, and the mechanic could tell _that _was a lie. "It is unlikely that I will ever be afforded the opportunity."

"What if we could build one?" Sideswipe whispered hopefully.

"With what materials, youngling?" Ratchet laughed quietly, though it was bitter. "Since we arrived on this slagging planet – actually, since long before that, even – we have not even had access to enough materials for me to do appropriate repairs when one of us is injured. I have had to make due with scrap and even that is simply in interest of _not cannibalizing our dead comrades_."

Mikaela winced. She remembered with vivid clarity the day that Director Mearing had suggested, without thinking it through, that Ratchet start taking what he needed of the parts of the recently deceased Autobots and Decepticons that were grouped in an adjacent warehouse, waiting for transport to the Laurentian Abyss.

Ironhide's remains had been among that group.

The hangar had fallen into complete, tense silence and the air had become charged as Ratchet slowly turned to regard her with icy optics. The furious, explosive argument that had ensued had been enough to give even Mikaela a headache that had lasted for days afterward.

"Yeah, I know but… if we could," Sideswipe continued, seemingly unfazed. "If you had another frame. What then?"

Ratchet sighed, and Mikaela could hear the soft sound of skin dragging on skin and she assumed that the CMO was dragging a hand tiredly over his face as he reined in what was likely a biting retort to the frontliner.

"Even if such a thing were possible, spark transfer is dangerous under the best of circumstances," the medic said tiredly. "I do not think you understand, Sideswipe. My attempt was borne of _desperation_, and I was successful only through _sheer luck_. To attempt it again would be tantamount to _suicide_."

The mechanic flinched subconsciously at the brutal honesty in Ratchet's voice as he hissed his argument to Sideswipe.

"Yeah, but… If anyone could do it, Ratch, it would be you."

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment," Ratchet said softly. "It is not a risk I am willing to take."

"Yeah, but what happens if… What happens if Optimus decides we have to leave the planet?" Sideswipe asked, a note of pleading to his voice. "What would you do? We can't just leave you behind."

"You can," Ratchet said calmly. "And if Optimus decides to leave Earth, you _will_."

"No. I won't do it," Sideswipe said defiantly. "After everything you've done for us? For _me_? I wouldn't leave you here. I _couldn't_."

"Sideswipe," Ratchet sighed, but it was with an affectionate patience. "I have accepted the possible ramifications of the path I have chosen, including being left behind if our Prime decides it is time to move on. If the time comes, you must…"

The voices faded out and Mikaela frowned, brow furrowing with the effort to stay awake, but sleep won over against her will and once more carried her back into her dreams. She was roused what must have been just a few hours later to the world tilting slowly around her as gentle arms lifted her from Sideswipe's alt. mode.

"Mmmgh? Are we there?" Mikaela asked blearily, tilting her head back to look at the blurry outline of Ratchet's face.

"Not yet, little one," Ratchet said quietly. "A bit of distance still. We have nearly six hours to go until we reach Chicago."

"Oh…where are we?"

"We are currently crossing the parking lot to the _Holiday Inn_," he said cheekily. "We are in Iowa – Chariton, Iowa to be specific."

"Why've we stopped?"

"Because Sideswipe needs to rest and so do you."

"I _am_ resting," the mechanic retorted groggily, burying her face back in the front of Ratchet's jacket.

"Real rest, girl," Ratchet said, rolling his eyes. "Good sleep in a bed and not the front seat of a car."

"I like cars," Mikaela murmured, her tongue feeling just as heavy as her eyelids, Ratchet's soft laughter the last thing she heard as she drifted quickly back to sleep in the security of the CMO's arms.

The next time she woke it was in a comfortable, fluffy hotel bed, her body sank gratefully into the mattress as she buried her face in the clean sheets. She drew her legs up, noting dully that her shoes and jacket had been removed, and rolled over. There was another bed situated across from hers, the state of disarray that the sheets and blankets indicating that this was likely where Ratchet had passed the night.

The mechanic stretched languidly with a small groan before sitting up just as aforementioned CMO emerged from the bathroom, clean shaven and hair dripping onto his clean shirt. He tilted an eyebrow at Mikaela's slightly dazed look.

"Good morning," he said.

"Mornin'," Mikaela yawned. "Did you say we were in Iowa?"

"Yes, we are. We are roughly six hours away from Chicago."

"Thank god," Mikaela mumbled, sliding off the bed and weaving slightly on her way to the bathroom. "I'm gonna have a shower."

"Smells like a good idea," Ratchet mumbled, feigning innocence when Mikaela wheeled about to throw him a nasty look and shrugging his shoulders. She stuck her tongue out at him and slammed the door testily behind her.

When she emerged nearly forty minutes later, Ratchet was sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, upon carefully made sheets. Mikaela shook her head, deciding not to divulge to him the fact that the hotel staff were just going to rip them off and throw them in the laundry after they left, anyway.

"Well at least now I feel more human," Mikaela said, appraising her reflection in the dresser top mirror with satisfaction. "Where's Sideswipe?"

"Parking lot," Ratchet said, standing up and walking toward the window to glance down at the stretch of asphalt below. "Probably still in recharge."

"He needed it," Mikaela said, and Ratchet nodded.

"We cannot linger. We should be moving again within the hour if we want to reach Chicago before the afternoon," the CMO mumbled, moving to the big table in the corner of their hotel room, where he had stacked their bags.

Mikaela nodded, wincing as the motion stretched the taut muscles in her neck and sent an ache down her spine. "Ouch," she mumbled, rolling her neck and shoulders in a feeble attempt to work out the kinks.

"Hm?" Ratchet said distractedly from across the room, where he was shifting through the contents of his bag.

"Nothing. Just sore."

Ratchet turned and regarded her over his glasses, an eyebrow tilted in such a way that clearly said '_I told you so_.'

Mikaela rolled her eyes, eyeing the CMO warily as he stepped away from his bag and came over to stand in front of her.

"Sit still," Ratchet said firmly, sliding onto the bed behind her. Mikaela tilted her head in puzzlement but obeyed anyway, nearly jumping out of her skin as she felt the CMO's long fingers press rather suddenly into her shoulders.

"Relax, girl," Ratchet admonished lightly.

Mikaela complied trustingly, nearly purring in satisfaction as Ratchet's nimble fingers massaged their way over her sore shoulders and down her spine.

"You should stretch more," he told her as he pressed yet another knot out of her shoulder. "It will keep your muscles from tensing so much."

"Not exactly a lot of room in Sideswipe's alt. mode," she said, shrugging.

"I know," Ratchet sighed, drawing his hands away from her and ignoring her disappointed groan. "But we are almost there, not much longer now."

They had gathered their bags and headed back down to the parking lot after returning the room keys to the front desk, where Ratchet had rudely brought Sideswipe out of recharge with a well-aimed kick to his front right tire.

They were back on the road by the time the sun had climbed fully above the horizon and Mikaela had firmly shoved her headphones into her ears and blasted music to herself in hopes that the remaining six hours of driving would go faster.

The time came and went quickly, small moments of conversation and, irritation (on Ratchet's part) which culminated in Sideswipe trying to coax the CMO into playing the very human game of 'I Spy,' and Ratchet snarling at him in very colorful language in return for his trouble.

Finally, toward the early afternoon, Ratchet had tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention and she had removed her headphones to tilt her head at him questioningly.

"Look," the CMO said, sitting up straight in his chair and indicating the scenery ahead of them through the windshield.

The Chicago skyline loomed in the distance.


End file.
